Never Forget The Truths We Learn
by Jewel Queen
Summary: Rated M for safety. Dean tries to let Castiel down easy. Little does he know that doing so started a new prophecy starring him- yet again. Oh, and an extremely PO-ed lovesick Angel of the Lord looking for any excuse to Smite his tiny white ass. Dean/Cas.
1. Never Say Never

_I haven't decided whether or not to put Dean's POV as another chapter because I really don't like making him out to be a bad guy... :( Well, review and tell me what you think..._

_Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain spoilers for post-end of the world, I haven't seen season five or four through yet and so also may be slightly AU. Some language. Mentions of past Dean/Castiel with brief details. Sad!fic (character death)._

"I just don't think I can do this any more, Cas," With just those few words, Castiel understood. He understood why Dean dragged him out here, in the private area as peaceful as the world could be on the verge of an Apocalypse. He understood the puppyish, wide-eyed and glassy looks from Sam and the soft sighs of Bobby's as Dean quietly asked him to join him. Outside. He understood why Dean had feared emotional involvement. He was sure that he would rather suffer Hell for eternity than feel this heart-wrenching, chaotic burning of his chest.

He felt sick all over, as if his body would rather spew out all of his words, all of his stupid crooked grins and cocky lustful glances, all of his aching touches to cleanse and purify and detoxify himself of his sickening obsession. Rid himself inside out of every last thing even remotely related to Dean Winchester and be rid of this horrid, agonizing pain. Anything but what he actually did. "Why?" he gasped out, not sure if he could even make that. His lips felt heavy and unfamiliar, the action of pursing them to cooperate with his leaden tongue required a lot of coaxing. Just like when he had first acquired his vessel.

Dean. _His Dean_ just sighed, shifting his weight around like he was uncomfortable and probably was. Castiel wanted him to feel like a quivering ant, wanted to narrowed his eyes at him and burn him with a Look, wanted to scream in his true Voice, wanted to Smite the smug Child of God for daring to do the unthinkable, unheard of; how dare he, _how dare he _just..._fuck_ an Angel of the Lord like another one of his lowly whores he took for a one-night stand and tempt him with promises of grander pleasure and sweep him into the throes of passionate emotions and declarations only to drop him like a well-worn tool past its prime?

What he wanted was anger, holy, Righteous anger. What he mustered was tears and a quivering form even more disgusted with itself. Where was God, where was Justice? "Don't make this any harder than it has to be, Castiel."

So cold, so unforgiving. He even looked at him with undisguised hatred like in the beginning of their rocky relationship, like it was his fault. The bastard. How was he supposed to bite back the cry that escaped from his lips with all of that? For a second, he could have sworn that Dean wavered in his resolve. "Please, Castiel. You have to understand, if we even managed to survive, it wouldn't have worked out,"

Castiel winced. His beating heart that previously pumped with such pain that it seemed like it was sadistically trying to kill him froze and his whole body went numb at his reminder. He did not want to remember his duty to Heaven once the World would be saved, it reminded him of Dean's sometimes outlandish midnight plans to "beat the system". He hung his head, finally breaking eye-contact with his lover. _Ex-lover_. "We will survive, have Faith," he muttered, taking solace in the familiar words like it was a welcomed prayer answered, before he could stop himself. Quickly, he looked back up, fully aware of the dead feeling inside of him that must have shone through his expressive eyes as he prepared himself to say the words he least wanted to hear fall.

"Don't worry, Dean. I understand and I agree, completely,"

He hated how easily they fell from his mouth. They were lies, blasphemies carried weightless from the part in his lips and floated on the air between them. Damn them. Damn De-

_No_. Castiel's eyes fluttered close and shooed that thought away. No, he would never damn Dean or curse him. He had already been to Hell and...

_I gripped you tight and pulled you out of perdition._ He gripped him tight. He pulled him out. He left a mark. His mark. His Dean. He, him, his.

He gasped and fled, unable to withstand being in his presence any more. Not with all the memories they shared and the bond that Dean had severed. He needed a secluded place to kneel and weep and pray and let his mind burn with this revelation.

He returned just in time for the battle. Face grim and demeanour as he always should have been towards them. Like a dick. He spared a nod to Sam and Bobby, cool indifference to Dean. Less than that even, he refused to acknowledge his presence ever.

_"Missed you, Cas," Dean said almost playfully, launching himself from the bed to stand close by him with a crooked grin._

_Castiel smiled back. Softly, shyly. "I was busy with other duties,"_

_"Too busy for me?"_

_"Never too busy for you, Dean."_

Castiel scowled and summoned his sword to his hand. He had never been in such a mood to kill as many demons as he possibly could before now. He wanted to loose himself in the action of fighting and he did. He was reckless as chaos was spewed from the very depths of Hell, he was vulnerable, willing to die even. The wild, hard look in his eyes terrified even the mightiest and confidant of filth. Every swing-

_"Cas, you know- you know that I..." Dean fumbled with the words he was trying to say. It was awkward to say the least as his face reddened when Castiel just tilted his head._

_"Yes, Dean, I do know. I feel the same way," he grinned at him hungrily. "Now come fuck me,"_

_"With pleasure,"_

Every cut-

_Dean suddenly reached across the divide between them in his beloved car, his hands tightly pressing into the sides of his face as he smashed his lips against his. It was hot and fevered as if they were packing a whole life-time of kisses into one moment and it hurt with a delicious intent. He felt teeth nip at him, saving gentle caresses for another time, and Castiel gasped. He fully expected Dean to take advantage of his open mouth but he seemed startled and pulled back as if he was afraid of being caught by a priest or his father._

_"I, uh...so where does this leave us?" he asked, refusing to look at him and instead finger his steering wheel._

_"Wherever you want it to, Dean,"_

Every slice-

_Dean's hand traced the outline of his body, stopping rub circles around his hip bones and suck on them. Castiel sucked in a breath, releasing in with a slight hissing quality to a moan. Dean's lips detached themselves with a quiet pop and stretched into a smirk before he lightly scraped his teeth over the sensitive bone and bit hard. Castiel gasped, his erection jumping up and straining achingly against the boxers Dean forced him to still wear. _

_"Dean..." he whispered. "Please,"_

_"You're gonna have to do better than that, Castiel," he grunted, turning him onto his back and starting on the other side and working the left hipbone with more ferocity. Sucking harder, caressing harder, biting harder, touching harder. Castiel nearly screamed._

_"Please, Dean, please...just take me," _

_"As you wish,"_

Every drop of blood-

_Castiel shivered once Dean sat beside him in the back seat of his treasured Impala. The air was tense with sexual desire, lust, but there they sat still as statues. "Are you sure that it is okay for me to- us...?" Dean finally asked, his voice breaking into a rough grumble._

_"No," Castiel said, tilting his head to view him. "But I want to." And then there was no more discussing. His coat was effortlessly discarded and his tie was flung into the air._

_"I want this so badly, I want you so badly," Dean groaned, shrugging off his jacket. His voice dark with lust._

_"Yes," he hissed agreement, meeting his lips in a frenzy._

Every slain foe-

_Dean grinned at him and tore off the only piece of clothing separating them. His hands ran down the back of his legs, licking the insides of the angel's thighs teasingly, and propped them up on his shoulders. He closed the distance, his cock pressing against Castiel's hole. "Ready?" _

_He felt Castiel slide his legs and wrap themselves tightly around him just above his waist in response. He saw Castiel look at him with an impatient glare, eyes blazing a bright unnatural blue. "Right, forget I asked," he chuckled, his cocky attitude forgotten as he pushed inside and moaned. _

It only made the memories come back full-blast. And worst of all, they were failing. The angels were retreating. Lucifer had taken Sam as a vessel and Dean, Dean wouldn't be able to sacrifice his brother for the greater good. Dean wouldn't live. They would not survive.

Castiel gasped. Dropping his sword and falling to his knees, he felt completely numb. He couldn't sense Dean, taste the air, feel the ground, hear the sounds of a raging war or smell the bloodshed all around him. There was nothing. He was nothing.

Distantly, he recognized that an enemy blade passed through his body in a mortal wound and blood left him in copious amounts. Faintly, he noticed that it was getting hard to breath and the world started to blur and fade into blackness.

_"Cas."_

_"Cas..."_

_"God, Cas, if you die on me..." A choke. A sob._

_"Fuck it. I won't let you die on me, you bastard! You can't die on me..." Two hands fisted in his clothes. They were released._

_"Don't...please...I never stopped loving you. You have to believe that,"_

Castiel woke up from his dream. His vision was bleary but he quickly made out the area surrounding him. "Dean..." he whispered, a soft smile breaking out into his face before he remembered and scowled. "Is Sam okay?" Dean's face fell but he turned away to compose himself.

"Yeah. Sam's alright and so am I, for that matter," he spat bitterly. Castiel slowly sat up, unsure to the extent that his injury went to.

"That is...good," he chose, looking at Dean. "Am I...?"

"Yeah, I mean, no. Okay, look, Cas-"

"Please...don't. You have said enough,"

Dean sighed and looked at the ground as the angel stood and looked down at him. "So, I guess...this is the end?"

Castiel nodded slowly, not levelling his gaze. "I must return to Heaven. My brothers await me and...there is nothing left for me here," he whispered sadly. He paused and began to unfurl his wings among the dead. "I will miss you, Dean Winchester," he felt compelled to lie before leaving.

Heaven was not quite as he remembered. It was peaceful and white and bright and full of Grace and the Lord's remaining touches, but it was mostly sad and filled with mournful laments rather than His angels all mingling and singing with Harmonies. It was lacking. Lacking in the number of angels, their Father, a Meaning.

It lacked Dean and Love and Hope and Faith and Glory. It lacked a bacon cheeseburger with a side of apple pie from a greasy dinner served by a buxom waitress that Dean charmed into getting for free along with a number he'd never call. He had Castiel then.

It lacked the passion of two lovers pursuing the Forbidden and tasting the fruits of their labour with undisguised enjoyment and not the least bit of regret. It lacked the spark, the tingles, the flutters when Dean simply Looked or Touched.

It lacked Free Will and Choice and Doubt that all made living as a human worthwhile and sometimes not. It lacked Life.

So when Castiel, too, fell to his knees again and sobbed into his hands again, joining the chorus of his brethren in sorrow, no one noticed that he was weeping for the loss of his humanity, of Dean, rather than the loss of the angels. His tears dried faster than he would have wished them to, the cavity in his chest from Dean's words had not been fully healed, and he stood without the irritated red eyes that wanted to sleep away pain. He wanted to curse it, curse the Perfection of Grace, wanted to feel the consequences of his _every_ action not his _upon-the-whole _action. Even the Grace was lacking, it should have been slowly burning away every memory he had of the imperfect world of Earth until nothing was left but a hazy nostalgia of something that once was. He supposed that Dean was so ingrained in him that he could never, ever truly forget.

Castiel looked down, hoping to glimpse a little of Earth and maybe the Winchesters but saw nothing. It would be a long time before he would be finished with his Punishment and be able to return in another vessel, that is if he was ever allowed to return.

He roamed in a mindless daze among the chaos of Heaven, not particularly inclined or ready to rebuild the structure back into a stable hierarchy like some of the others, though, definitely not sharing the same reasons why as the others. There were no missions, no missives, no revelations to be received. Nothing to prevent them from restoring Heaven but themselves. Time did not exist.

"Do you wish to Repent of your sins of the flesh?" was asked of him once the realm was rightened. There was no need for names; besides Anna, he was the only one to have returned after Disobeying. Everyone knew his name, what he had done. Calmly, he stared back at their faces openly showing disgust or curiosity or nonchalance or anything in between. He did not strive for their Love, their versions of Obedience and Respect. He had found that on Earth and so it will remain, but angels weren't the only ones who could be heartless.

He inclined his head, hand reaching up to his chest and subtly almost attempted to pull out his heart. "I wish to Repent of my sins, but I shall not Regret them," Eyes sparkled around him with confusion, perhaps even anger.

"How can you be Punished so that you Repent, but not Regret them enough to make the same mistake again?"

His hand dropped to his side. "It was Written that I shall commit sins of the flesh and so it will always be Done. I cannot Regret what always was meant to be."

"Your Insolence-"

"You may Forgive me of my Insolence when I have given it," Castiel responded in true Dean fashion. The cavity ached again and his hand tried to rip away the pain on its own accord. "Please, just rid me of my earthly memories and deem me Punished,"

He was scrutinized for some time before being answered by the angels of a Higher Power. "Very well, we shall remove all of your earthly memories for you, but you still must bleed upon the crucifix to Atone for your sins."

He bowed his head and let himself be dragged away to his Punishment. There was worse things to be had than this. As it was, he merely flinched when the nails were punctured through his palms and sagged against the cross for support. Some of the blood trailed down and caught onto his wings, making the feathers stick together, and he ruffled them with irritation.

He barely felt the crack of whips as he was only whipped enough to bleed.

_Dean's mouth latched onto the angel's skin and sucked and sucked until teeth were scraping against his skin enough to bleed him..._

They spread out in rivulets that traced his body.

_Dean's hands traced the outline of his body..._

Falling everywhere at once, rushing, and dripping in a hurry.

_Dean grunted as he slammed into Castiel fast and furiously, sweat like a nice sheen on both their bodies from trying to reach climax so swiftly, as the angel grit his teeth and hissed. All it took was one look into either of their eyes to know that they both wanted this. That Castiel liked being his dirty secret. Sam was going to enter the room at any moment and it added a certain thrilling rush, needing to be done in a hurry to preserve their secret..._

It wasn't painful. Every drop of blood was instead erasing the pain of his memories from his body and his mind.

_"I just don't think I can do this any more, Cas..."_

_"Don't make this any harder than it has to be..."_

_"Cas, you know- you know that I..."_

_"...I never stopped loving you..."_

_"God, Cas, if you die on me..."_

_"Castiel..."_

_"Please, Cas..."_

_"So, I guess...this is the end..."_

_"As you wish..."_

Castiel awoke with a small frown. It was white and the angels were singing loudly. _I must be in Heaven. _He attempted to move out of the position he was in, but his arms refused to cooperate. He turned his head to the side with a puzzled expression. He was being Punished, that much was clear, but he could not remember why. He had never Doubted, had always followed the Lord's orders without question, hesitation. He had never been Tempted to Fall, had never remained on earth for longer than necessary. He could not understand.

"Hello, brother," an oddly familiar voice greeted. He picked his head up to discern the identity.

"Anna..." he sighed with relief. "Why am I here?"

"You are being Punished for committing something that I, too, have done. And with the same human as I did, too,"

"Sins of the flesh," he scowled at her still blank stare. "I would never."

"But you did," she said grinning, taking a few steps forward. She reached out and held the sides of his face steady and leaned into the space between them until her mouth was at his ear. Her eyes darkened suddenly and her voice was more stern, as if sharing a secret not meant to be known by anyone. "You must never forget," she began and pulled away. This time she position herself closer to his mouth, aware of the suspicious glance he gave her, and used her fingers to pry open his lips.

She exhaled into his mouth, her words drifting weightlessly along with the breath. "His name is Dean Winchester and we need you to find him for us."

Castiel blinked, shaking his head and felt slightly unnerved by the fact that he could still feel her breath _inside of him_. But before he could ask any more questions, she was gone.


	2. Never Let Go

_In case you were wondering, I meant for this to be a simple one-shot. And now it's gonna be something much, much longer...bear with me and review!_

_Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain spoilers for post-end of the world, I haven't seen season five or four through yet and so also may be slightly AU. Some language. Mentions of past Dean/Castiel with brief details. Sad-eventual-happy!fic (character death)._

Castiel sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, trying to get rid of the weird feeling. He felt it stick more, deeper against the walls of his insides. It was uncomfortable, like feeling something that you swallowed live try to crawl its way back out, but painless. "Anna," he growled, twisting around in his prison, as if he could Summon her with his voice. Granted, he used his Grace to put a bit of a Command into it, but, last he checked, she was still more powerful that he was. "Anna, I don't understand!"

He felt a zap inside his brain, winced, and the usual conversation or singing he could hear tuned in and out. When it turned back on, it sounded scratchy and grating and didn't even sound like a language at all. He was almost glad when he stopped hearing it, giving him a moment to compose himself before it would come back just as harsh again.

He grit his teeth, jaw tense and grinding, as it came back on but it sounded different. There was a wheezy quality to it. He focused on the breathy voice in the background. _De- Wi...ster. Ear-. De- Win...ster. Earth. _It didn't make any sense, it sounded just as broken as everything else he heard but it gave him a headache just trying to focus on it.

Castiel took another deep breath and closed his eyes tight, centring himself. This was important, this was God's work. It had to be. So it was nothing he couldn't handle, or otherwise he wouldn't have been chosen. He had to have Faith.

He focused again as it tuned back on, this time sounding slightly underwater but a lot easier to stand. The same voice was in a far away corner, deep and hidden. He got the sense that this was a mission best kept to himself. _Dean. Winch...ster. Earth. Find. Dean. Winch...ster. Earth._

And then, all was right. The angels returned to singing and conversing with no watery, breathy or scratchy undertones of any kind. It was as if the whole situation never happened. He frowned and tried to make sense of it. Earth and Find were easy to make out, and then what appeared to be a name.

Anna's breath stirred inside him almost painfully and he felt his eyes begin to soften and glisten for no reason. His whole body was trembling softly now and a very unpleasant, dark feeling rose to catch in his throat. No amount of swallowing would force it away. He scowled and decided he did not like this feeling, did not like what Anna did to him and most certainly would not like this mission to find this stupid, lowly human.

_Dean. _His mind supplied almost reverently for him. A vague notion in the back of his head seemed familiar with it- _him. _He paused thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side as he always did when he encountered a quandary of some sort. His tongue slowly darted out to wet his lips and-

"Dean." Castiel stated it as simply as one angel could state anything and yet an electrical touch ran up his spine and his wings tried to strain every feather as if they could somehow reach the person. He shivered and smiled before he could catch himself. The odd sensation to Sing was beginning to overwhelm him and he, like the majority, never did so without a great cause. He decided that he rather liked this feeling, could get used to what Anna did and would probably enjoy this mission to find him. Find Dean.

His wings twitched with a burst of energy and he trilled a Song to himself. He almost hummed it, so quiet he remained, even though constant vibrations were being sent up his spine to make his wings flutter even more. The happiest of angels were the ones who flew, displaying their wings like peacocks, without any need to.

It was an unusual Song, as all Songs are unique, because he felt so pleased and yet he was weeping and mourning something along with it. Eventually, his Voice wavered and he hung his head to continue to silently mourn whatever it was.

"Well, what do ya idjits think of that?"

Dean and Sam both looked up from the books thay were rifling through at the sound of Bobby's voice. They both looked tired and haggard, having been up for twenty-two hours searching for anything that could explain the weird even for them phenomenon happening, but Dean carried the brunt of it. It had been a year since Castiel returned to Heaven and no matter what they did, nothing got rid of the dark cloud over his face.

"Hey...hey, Dean, you alright?" Sam asked shooting a look back at Dean from turning around to view the sky. It was raining like the worst thunderstorm, you could barely differentiate between the sky and the rain and there was no thunder or lightning. Just pure rain.

Dean scoffed, turning his head to the side and out of either of their views, his lips twitched into a feeble smile for a few moments. "He- um, Cas..." he shook his head again. "He used to tell me that when an angel cried, truly, truly cried, it would..." his voice broke and a single glint rolled down his cheek before he wiped it away.

"Dean..." Sam whispered brokenly.

"I'm fine, Sammy," he sniffed, wiping his nose too. "I am. Seriously. I just...I need to find him, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know. I get it," his brother said sighing, and returning to their books and hoping for Dean's sake that their newest lead didn't turn out to be nothing again.

Castiel's wounds reopened and he began to bleed again. Small, slow droplets that clung to his skin as they fell. He watched them with a faint sense of idleness.

"Castiel."

"Anna," he greeted in kind, though giving her a respectful inclined nod as well. "Your breath lives on,"

"Good," she took slower steps forward this time, like she had the time to debate every movement. "I was worried it might not stick in time. But I guess I underestimated his influence on you, he seems to stick just fine."

"Why are you here?" he asked once she was as close as she had been before.

"Why do you keep trying to forget?" she countered, cupping his face in her hands. "He is important, the world needs him again-"

"I need him and I don't want to!" He spat, interrupting her as tendrils of furious rage and hurt choking his patience and the words he should have said. He ripped his head out of her hands, ashamed, sheepish, confused, embarrassed for his display. "I apologise. I do not know what came over me,"

"No." Anna slowly turned his head around, back to looking into her eyes. They seemed colder than he last remembered, but then again, he had forgotten quite a few things as of late. "This is good. We need you to feel again, to become as human as an angel can get without Falling. You must not Fall," her fingers dug into his cheek and he grunted as her breath stung when it coiled inside his midsection, mingling with the other piece as if warmly greeting a brother.

"You must find Dean Winchester. Do not fail us." She released him and he gasped at the fire that burned him where her touch was previously. Tears stung his eyes at the physical torment. This was worse than any angel Punishment he had been put through and that did not sit well with him. "Let that be a reminder, this is your last chance, brother."

"Indeed, Anna, this is something I will not forget so easily."

Dean screamed, thrashing wildly and pulling on his chains. His wrists were bleeding after being rubbed raw from the rope knotted around them. Invisible whips cracked upon his skin with a wasp's sting and he could feel the blood pool underneath him. The dirty sheets soaked it up like the desert drank water, forever stained from all the blood he spilt every time he slept. "God help me!" He yelled into the ceiling. "Cas!"

Sam rushed into the room, grabbing onto the doorway to stop himself from sliding into the wall. "Dean?" he sighed. "Dammit Dean!" He walked slowly over to his brother and gently shook him awake. "Come on, come on Dean, snap out of it," Dean's mossy eyes flashed recognition at him and he laid his hand on Sam's cheek as tears fell freely on his own.

"Sammy," his voice cracked. He grinned brightly and patted his cheek. "Thank god, thank god it's you, Sammy!" He sat up as much as his restraints would allow. "Listen, I've got a new lead on him. You, you just gotta cut me out and all we have to do-"

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean. We can't. Not anymore,"

The light died in his eyes. "What...what d'you mean, Sam?"

Sam fixed him a serious look, unwavering as he stared deep into his brother's eyes and took a deep breath. "Dean. It's been twenty years. I'm done, I have a family," he laughed half-heartedly. "Hell, my daughter's turning eighteen tomorrow and- and graduating from high school soon. She's going to go to college, Stanford, Pre-law."

Dean licked his lips and actually looked at his brother. His hair was freshly cut, a little shorter than how he always had liked his curls, and it was starting to recede backwards. There were more lines on his face, though, thankfully, there were a lot more laugh lines. He wasn't so tense any more, not always on the lookout waiting for something to lurk right behind him. He put on some weight, too, not looking so lanky as he was before. There was pride in his eyes as he spoke, love, care, devotion. Tears blurred his vision again at what he missed out on, watching his brother have a normal life filled with as much apple pie as ex-hunters could get; living and not just surviving. "I didn't know you had a daughter," he said softly, a little unsure of what exactly to say. "You must be so proud..."

"Yeah, I am." Sam stated, deadpan.

Dean fumbled for a minute. "So, uh...they don't know?"

"They don't know, they won't know and they never will know. I won't let them be harmed, ever." Sam stood up. "That's why I can't help you, Dean, you have to help yourself. You've got to let go," he added at his confused look.

"Sam, I can't..." he choked out. "I have to."

Sam breathed through his nostrils, flaring them. "Don't think I don't know what this is about," he said quietly but packed full with anger. "I hear you, I hear you muttering late at night when you think everyone's asleep. You are bringing this on yourself," he jabbed the air furiously, clenching his jaw. "All this pain, all this suffering for nothing!"

"It's not for nothing!" Dean yelled back before he could stop himself.

"Every night, Dean. Every. Night. I watch my daughter sleep peacefully before I go to bed with my wife and every damn night at this same damn hour I have to come running to wake you up before you fucking kill yourself. Every damn night I have to explain to you and tend your wounds and convince you to fucking eat something and make you promise that you will stop this. Every night you tell me the same fucking lie. 'Of course, Sammy. I don't want to lose you, too'." He shook his head sadly and scoffed.

"Don't you think I'm tired of having to take care of my big brother? Don't you think I'm tired of constantly fearing for your fucking life that you don't seem to care about? You can't possibly think that you can bring him back to you, still. Why won't you just give up, Dean?"

"Because I still love him!" He roared. "Dammit, Sammy, I love him more than anything else and if I have to die before I can see him again, I will." His dead eyes said the truth of it all.

"Then why did you let him go?" Sam whispered. "Why did you hurt him?"

Dean turned his head away, biting his lip and shaking with the effort not to cry. He closed his eyes and _god-damn that memory still fucking **hurt**_! "Because I was a fucking stupid bastard, Sam," he whispered back. "That's it. And I pray every god-damn day that he will forgive me. Did you ever hear that?" He turned around back to look, but Sammy was gone and his rope had been cut free.


	3. Never See the Future

_So I watched Season Four all the way now by skipping parts I've already seen. It killed me not to watch anything that even mentioned Cas and I feel like I've now portrayed him a little OoC. Well, review please, it'll really help me out._

_Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain spoilers for post-end of the world, I haven't seen season five through yet and so also may be slightly AU. Some language. Mentions of past Dean/Castiel with brief details. Sad-eventual-happy!fic (character death)._

Castiel flexed his fingers and sighed. He was beginning to suffer from humanization, starting with boredom, as he remained pinned to the cross. If he pulled himself off, it would be an act of Disobedience. If he remained, Anna would come for him and pluck his feathers out one by one. But, more importantly, he would not do God's Work nor get to see Dean if he did not Disobey.

Dean. Ever since he Sang about the human he began to feel more human himself, and in a way, more alive. But he still had no recollection of any of his times down on Earth. He could barely identify the feelings he was receiving.

He could not form a vision of Dean in his mind. He had tried that once.

_Castiel sighed and closed his eyes, muttering different phrases and switching in and out of various languages while trying to capture the essence of Dean. He tried to picture his soul and give it a human skin. He saw strong hands, dirty and ashamed and full of guilt at his actions. Castiel's left eye twitched and the Dean he was forming blurred for a moment. He saw a body belonging to an average sized man with the strength and courage of two men. Castiel's head was pinned flat against the cross he hung upon, and he winced at a sudden intense flare that burned the back of his mind shortly. Dean vanished for a much longer moment._

_Castiel grimaced but proceeded onwards. He launched a quick and final strike to see his mind. He managed to vividly see his eyes. Bright, glossy eyes as dark as the forest and so unique, so wounded, so-_

_Castiel screamed and writhed under his invisible, burning torment. His wings flapped desperately to free himself with a thick 'whoosh'. The nails pierced deeper into his palms. He felt like the fires of Hell were coming, licking at him and trying to drag him into the Pit. And it all seemed so familiar._

_He gasped awake, drinking in the air like he had never breathed before, remnants of a fiery pain thumping inside his head. His eyes were wide, feeling gushes of blood run down his face from out his nose and mouth. He remembered eyes. Eyes of a green so dark they looked brown, near black._

_"That was a very Human reflex, Castiel,"_

_His blue eyes looked out to see an angel of a Higher Power, one whom had Judged him before, calmly regarding him. "I do not...remember. Anything. I swear," he responded slowly, keeping his gaze steady on the other and swallowing the blood still in his mouth in order to get the words out. His jaw felt numb, his whole body did._

_"I know you do, Castiel," the angel said, a whip appearing in his hands. "It is impossible for you to, we took them away. You do remember that, don't you?" Castiel frowned at his brother's condescending tone. Something was wrong in Heaven and he had to fix it. "Still, I am obligated to warn you. Do not attempt to access what cannot be accessed, brother." And the whip descended._

Castiel flexed his fingers again and moved his jaw around. His reviewing of memories always gave back the aches he had suffered but on a mildly uncomfortable level. Punishment, he supposed. But each time everything but the eyes started to fade and lose its details. Words went missing, movements blurred. That was abnormal behaviour for Heaven. It was clearer here. What was not said was heard, what was not done was seen.

"I apologize, Castiel." He was drawn out of his pondering by the appearance of Anna. "I forgot how broody you were, even before your Dean-existence."

"What do you want?" He asked gruffly, his throat still suffering from screaming for so long. He tucked his wings back inside of him though he knew it would not deter Anna if she so wished to make upon her unspoken threat.

She smiled at him, seeing that. "Forgiveness. Mercy. Isn't that what we angels are all about?" Her words rang bells in his head. "Actually, I came to give you Purpose, Castiel. You seem to be having trouble making a decision. It's quite simple, really." She strode towards him and he instinctively turned his head away. Her breath still swirled in his insides, uncomfortably. "This is what you, and the world, and Heaven, gets to look forward to. This is what you must stop." Her eyes flashed and she pressed two fingers to his forehead. A familiar surge went through him and he felt himself being pulled into the future inside a dream.

He was in a home filled with the elderly. No one noticed him standing in the middle of the room, but the electronics did. He turned and felt the urge to follow a man dressed in crisp white, no tie, striding quickly somewhere. He followed him to Room 15A and there Castiel was forced to stop. He tilted his head to the side and watched that man walk around the corner.

Lights flickered above him and the hallway felt chilled. The door opened by itself and Castiel stepped in. A very old man lay half-dead on his bed, a mask covering half of his face and sounds of random puffs over a constant vibrating drum. Wires were connected nearly everywhere on this human attached to machines with monitors, machines with bags, machines with many noises.

His hair was grey, missing in certain areas, but still thick. Castiel ran a hand through it, still soft. His forehead was lined with creases and Castiel attempted to smooth them in place. The human frowned and began to mutter in his sleep. His cheeks were gaunt, his skin pale and sickly, his lips cracked beyond repair. His face seemed to have been stretched too much over his skin, dotted with dark spots and bruises.

Castiel looked down at his hands. They were wrinkled and dotted even darker. They had once been strong and capable. They were still very ashamed, almost painfully so. He turned them over and traced a finger over the thick, permanently raw scar there. This was done by ropes.

The hand he held gripped him tightly and Castiel and tried to pull out of it. This was a dream, he was not corporeal. He could not be Seen.

"I have you now, Reaper," the man wheezed. Castiel looked deep into his eyes. Dark eyes, almost black eyes. Once green eyes.

"Dean." He whispered, feeling his eyes widen.

"How. Dare. You." Machines beeped angrily along with him, his words harsh enough to make the angel duck his head. But his hand loosened. "You are worse than demons, worse than the dicks Upstairs, all of you Reapers. You take the one form I cannot die without seeing first."

Dean sighed and released his hand fully. "Well, go on. Give me your false promises so I can go back to Hell."

Castiel blinked. "I would never send you to Hell, Dean."

He laughed bitterly. "Good to see that you guys do your homework. Thought you were above granting a man's Dying Wish,"

Castiel swallowed resistance. A sick feeling was pooling in his middle as he dared to ask, "What is your Dying Wish?"

Dean lazily glanced back at the angel from staring pointlessly at the wall. "Please forgive me, Cas."

He stared at this very old Dean for a long time, unsure of many things. Why was he asking for his forgiveness instead of God's? Why did he shorten his name? How did he know his name? What was he to be Forgiven for? Could he grant Forgiveness? He decided he didn't care if he could or not, the pleading in his voice was enough to stab him in the chest painfully many times.

"I have always Forgiven you," he chose to say, elated once Dean broke out into a true smile.

He sighed happily this time and turned over. "All of these years, I tried so hard...all I had to do was die." Castiel saw the knife by his untouched tray of food the same time Dean did.

"No, Dean!" he reached for it, fingers sliding over the smooth utensil but unable to grab it. He felt his body shake with a sick feeling as he realized he could only watch. "I could not escape, I could not reach you-" he shut his eyes and heard a grunt and a squish. Blood splattered on his cheek closest to the violence. He had never Regretted anything in this magnitude, he had never felt like he had told such a lie when it was the truth.

He was glad when he felt himself being pulled away into another scene. Earth looked normal, the way he had left it. Standing in the same field littered with dead bodies. He frowned and peered closer at one. Fresh, dead bodies. He glanced back around him and saw a group of three humans carrying a limp body between them all. He journeyed closer to them.

"We should kill him now," a male growled. A woman with long dark hair slapped him.

"Are you crazy? Then we will never find the Colt, you idiot!" she screeched.

"We need it to break the last seal," another female with shorter blonde hair answered smoothly. "And then, some fun can begin." She turned and grabbed the cheeks of a woman gagged and bound to a stake. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?" The woman whimpered and tried to pull away, tears in her eyes.

"Quiet!" the blonde woman hissed. Her partners stilled as well and a low groan was heard. "He's waking,"

Their limp body slowly opened his eyes and immediately glared around him. "Mary? Oh, god, Mary!" He struggled with his bonds. "I'm going to fucking kill you all!"

"Now, now, Sammy. Let's not say anything you can't take back," the darker woman responded. Castiel cocked his head. These two seemed very familiar to him.

"Ruby, you bitch. I thought I killed you," he tried to lunge at her but the man held him back from behind.

Ruby narrowed her eyes. "You tried."

"Don't sell yourself short, Sam. You did kill us," the blonde said and Castiel watched Sam's eyes widen.

"Meg. Hendrickson. This-this is impossible!"

"No, honey, impossible is Hell. Impossible is breaking the remaining 534 seals. It took quite some time to conquer, but I assure you, they will all be very real soon." Sam's eyes flashed to Mary.

"What do you want from me?" he asked brokenly.

"We want the Colt," Hendrickson said in his cool voice.

"Will you let my daughter go?"

"The prices we demons have to pay," Ruby sighed, eyes turning black and back. "Fine. We'll let your precious daughter go." Sam hung his head and nodded.

"It's in the trunk," he said.

"Go with him and make sure he doesn't do any funny business," Ruby commanded. Hendrickson and Sam returned a moment later and Sam grudgingly handed the Colt over.

"My daughter?" he said, gesturing to the woman on the stake.

"A deal is a deal," Ruby said, cocking the gun and turning it on Mary, whose muffled screams Castiel turned away at.

"No!" Sam roared.

"But you never said alive," she finished right before the gun blast and another squish.

He opened his eyes and found himself back in Heaven, in one final dream. This didn't take long. He could tell by the silence around him and he closed his eyes in pain. _No angels_.

He stared back at Anna, awake now. "Did you find your Purpose?" she asked simply of him.

"Yes, I have."

Dean hummed a random Led Zeppelin song to himself and slammed another dusty, old book in front of Sam. His smile didn't reach up to his eyes when he saw his little bro jump awake and his short laugh sounded a little too forced to be normal. "Heh, Sammy, glad you could make it."

Sam just sighed and skimmed the page it was opened to. Ingredients and directions for some type of potion or spell as far as he read. "What is this, Dean?" he asked, not awake enough to be happy about researching or his brother's attempted good mood.

"This, my friend," he said, pointing to the page a few times and hovering over Sam's right shoulder. "Is the real thing. Me and Bobby both agree."

"Okay, great. What is the 'real thing'?" he snapped.

"Woah, dude, you need to lighten up and have some coffee."

"Yeah, thanks," Sam sighed and rubbed his face clear of the stress from having so little sleep with so little results. Even college wasn't this bad. He took the freshly poured cup from his brother's hands and heard him pull a chair closer to him and plop down in it.

"Don't mention it. Really, Sam," Sam looked at Dean's somber eyes watching him. "You've done a lot for me these past weeks, hell, you and Bobby had to put up with me for that entire year and I know I wasn't a slice of Heaven. I still can't even look at myself in the mirror..." Dean broke off and focused on his cup, his hands playing on the sides. He didn't have to look to know that Sam was watching him with his wet puppy eyes, swallowing a lump in his throat and blinking back tears because it was the first time in months that he was acting like his usual self. After Castiel left, he really didn't feel like he had anything left. He knew he made Bobby worried sick and changed his brother into a scared dog willing to do anything to keep his brother alive and save him from himself. He _knew _that they were constantly afraid of him killing himself slowly or trying to make another deal to get Castiel back at the risk of his soul, again.

He coughed away his guilt, for now. "And, uh, I just wanted to say...no matter what I tell you, I- you're still my little brother. Always."

Sam smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder. "You couldn't push me away if you tried, Dean." The implied hung awkwardly between them for a moment. He turned around and gestured back to the open book. "So, uh, you gonna tell me what this 'real thing' is?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Remember that case we took long ago with the kid who killed in people's dreams?" Dean began, eager for the change in conversation.

"Well, yeah," he said in his best 'duh' voice.

"Turns out that the dream stuff also had another use, in a ritual. Says here, _'The Lover's Ritual was originally created to be used before consummation so that both could develop bonds that would enable them to always feel the other.'_" His finger trailed the sentence on the yellowed page.

"So why did it fall out of usage? I mean, I haven't even heard a mention of it in any religion anywhere." Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

Dean pointed to another section farther down. "It killed people, slowly. The bonds that were created fed off of their life to be sustained; the more the bonds were used, the quicker they died. These bonds also made people suffer from hallucinations, amnesia, transfer of pain, madness."

"Transfer of pain?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Yeah, like if one of them found a way to control the bonds, they could be shot point-blank and the other would suffer the wounds." He explained, nonchalantly.

"I can't-" he scoffed. "I don't believe this. Is there anything..._positive_ about the ritual?"

"We believe that it can help me find Castiel."

"That's rich, De-" Sam stopped and looked at Dean's very somber face. "You really serious about this, aren't you?"

Dean leaned forward with his hands folded in front of him like he was trying to threaten his brother. "It's about Cas, Sammy."

"Right, and you would go to Hell and back for him." He squeezed the bridge of his forehead. He sometimes forgot how serious his brother took to his angel, Castiel was practically part of the family. "Alright, but I'm going to need something stronger than coffee-"

"I'll go get us some beers," Dean said almost cheerfully, like normal, rising up to go into the kitchen. He hummed that song again as the refrigerator door opened with a slight squeak. The two bottles clanged together as he reached down inside to pull them out. He could have sworn that a faint, light bell rang along with them. Dean closed the door, making the machine shudder on itself and slowly straightened up. He didn't hear anything else out of place. He shrugged and turned around.

"Jesus!" He shouted, the bottles dropping to the floor in a sticky puddle and staring at the tan trench-coat bearing, slightly loose tie wearing, holy tax accountant angel sitting contently on the counter by the sink.

He cocked his head to the side. "Hello, Dean Winchester."


	4. Never Feel the Emotions

_Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain spoilers for post-end of the world, I haven't seen season five through yet and so also may be slightly AU. Some language. Mentions of past Dean/Castiel with brief details. Sad-eventual-happy!fic._

He cocked his head to the side. "Hello, Dean Winchester." He slipped off the counter and took a few steps forward. "I had thought that you would have remembered me. I am Castiel, an-"

"Angel of the Lord, no, I remember," Dean sad dryly, swallowing the build up of emotions he was not prepared to deal with yet. Castiel wasn't supposed to pop back in like old times, Dean was supposed to find him. He was supposed to beg the angel to listen to him, _he_ was supposed make things right. It couldn't possibly work out the other way around. "Sam!"

"Then why did you call me the Son of God?" Dean shut his eyes and tried to ignore the sensations threatening to take him over. _He's acting like- Oh, god, I hurt Castiel so badly that I gave him amnesia..._

"Hey,_ Sammy_!" he yelled desperately, opening his eyes again and inching towards the door. "I could really use your help right now."

"Dammit, Dean, how hard is it to get-" Sam stopped, his jaw dropping as he stepped into the kitchen. "Holy shit! Cas is back? What did you do?" He said, sending his brother a dark, suspicious look.

Castiel frowned before Dean could speak. "Please don't call me that, Samuel Winchester. It makes me feel..." he straightened his head and rolled his shoulders. "Unfortunate."

"Right, of course," Dean managed to say, his voice beginning to waver and betray him. "So, uh, what brings you here? God didn't give you permission to Smite me, did he?" He tried to fake a laugh and make a feeble smile.

Castiel peered at Dean confused and took two steps closer to him, watching very clearly as the man's breath hitched and he squirmed under his pining gaze. "Why should God want you Smited?"

Sam looked at the ground as his brother choked, it was getting to become an awkward environment to be invited into. He really didn't know why Dean called him at all. It was obvious that Castiel had no memories at all of Earth or he would have never asked that question. "Dean, you don't have-"

"No, Sam, this is the reason why I wanted him here and if the poor bastard lost his marbles..." he shook his head, unable to finish the statement, and looked the angel in the eye. "Not God, Castiel, but you."

"Me?" He repeated, his deep voice turning the sound into both a statement and a question. He squinted and looked closer at his charge. "I don't understand."

"That's because you lost your memories," Sam muttered. Castiel turned and viewed the younger brother in a side-long glance up and down.

"I know I lost my memories. I asked to Forget!" He snapped, not noticing Dean's flinch. A zap of shock went through his mind, a flash of red and screaming and eyes. He covered his ears to try and block out the whisperings in his mind and grunted at the screech they presented to him. He grit his teeth to the fear, panic and pain with the slight undercurrent of sadistic pleasure rushing through him, pumping into his blood and making him slowly cave to the foreign emotions.

The heavy oppression was lifted with a hand to his shoulder. "-kay, Cas?" he blinked at the sound of his name and looked into Dean's dark eyes, taking quick breaths. He slowly lowered his hands and stared intensely at him.

"Mark," he whispered, his eyes flitting to the floor for a moment as if he could see Hell open up below to swallow them whole.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Mark." His blue eyes latched onto Dean's again. His hands shakily pulled up the human's sleeves and he pressed his hand to the mark that cast a red outline over his fingers with wide eyes. "You have been Marked by Hell."

Dean jerked out of his touch and backed away slowly, sliding his feet across the floor. "You would remember that, wouldn't you?" His voice was rough but quiet and he accentuated his words with short jerks of his head. Running through his mind, as if he too saw what Castiel saw, was the pained screams of all the victims he tortured, all the blood he reveled in cutting. It was too much, too soon.

"Dean," Castiel muttered, stepping closer with a pitying look.

"No, please. Castiel stop!" He froze at Dean's forceful command and watched him through his eyelashes that was both a vulnerable and strong glance. Dean had to turn away from the power his eyes had over him. "Don't, just don't. I'm not ready to."

_"Please forgive me, Cas."_

_"All of these years, I tried so hard...all I had to do was die."_

Castiel bit his lip as those whispers from before came hauntingly back to his mind. His eyes felt excessively wet and he had to blink them a few times. "If I tell you that I have always Forgiven you, will you promise me you won't...die?"

Dean picked his head up and twisted his face into one of his confused-out-of-his-mind_, _am-I-hearing-you-right faces. "What?"

"When I, uh, was taking too long to decide, a sister of mine sent me on a trip to the future to view what would happen if I ultimately refused. You were in a hospital, hooked up to many, many machines and at first thought of me as a Reaper." He took a testing step forward. "You...spoke of a Dying Wish and desire to see me one last time, I assume to ask me Forgiveness since that is what you did.

"I am not God, it is not in my power to decide who has Forgiveness," he explained slowly, trying to make Dean understand the full impact his future self did not receive in time. "But something compelled me and I did, despite the possible cost, Forgive you. And then," he closed his eyes and looked away as if that would prevent it from being true. "You rammed yourself into a knife."

"I killed myself?" Dean echoed as Castiel turned to face Sam now.

"I apologize for my behaviour, I'm still not...used to emotions and I am sorry for your daughter. She was one of the seals,"

"I had a daughter?" he said, his face softening.

"Her name was Mary," he granted further. "It was obvious you loved her. She grew up...normal." Sam looked at the floor again, swallowing furiously and nodding.

"Wait, just hold on a minute, a seal? There's more seals?" Dean ran a hand through his hair and pointed at Castiel, raising his voice. "Dammit! Let me guess, you guys want me to go spread myself out again on a hunt to stop them from being broken while Sammy has to make sure he doesn't get a girl pregnant!"

"Dean," Castiel tried to interrupt, keeping his head down as if that could deflect his anger.

He laughed harshly. "Thanks for the great vacation. I spent a year, a whole damn year, making my brother and Bobby's life miserable as we worked our asses off just to find you! Then you just beam yourself down here, mind freshly swiped of all your fucking good qualities and act like a big dick again. And I wanted to..." He shook his head at the angel's expectant eyes.

"No, you know what? Fuck you." He snarled, his own glinting. "Fuck you and the big stick back up your ass. You and your angel pals you've gotten so close to can go fight this damn future war of yours, I'm done. And this time, I mean it." He brushed past Castiel and grabbed Sam by the arm. "Come on, Sam, I'm sorry I got you into this mix."

The lights flickered and the whole house trembled under their feet. "You think I was living in Paradise all this time, Dean?"

Dean took two slow turning steps to face Castiel, the thump of his shoes clearly audible, and raised his eyebrows at him. "Isn't that what it's called?"

"I was Punished, Dean, Punished the whole time. For you." Castiel bit out gruffly, light bulbs blowing out with a high-pitched crash. "Strung up on a cross and nailed to it. For you. I was whipped over and over. For you. My wounds constantly being re-opened and bleeding. All for you. It may not hurt the most but it was still hell, I still suffered hell for you and I didn't even know who you were! That is not Paradise."

"So what, you want me to feel sorry for you?" Dean looked like he pondered it for a moment and then frowned and shrugged. "Nah, not gonna happen. Not when you're trying to drag me back into the messes your kind make!" He shouted.

"Dean, would you just shut up for a minute." The three turned to face the newcomer in the doorway.

"Anna?" Dean asked, startled. "I thought you- you died?"

She ignored him and walked towards Castiel and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Castiel, you have to calm down." Castiel set his chin defiant. This anger coursing through him made him strong and hot. He felt invincible, powerful and mighty, he did not want to give this up. Not in front of this newer Anna whom was still his superior. He could take her down.

Anna's eyes grew cold, she probably heard that last thought. If not, all of them. "Listen to me, Castiel," she repeated, taking on a deadly tone infused with Command. Her breath strained against him, trying to rip itself out it seemed, and he gasped under the duress. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the awful sickness it created inside him. The strength his anger provided cooled and died like a wet fire but the emotion itself still burned fiercely.

Reluctantly, he took a deep breath and glared at Dean before exhaling. Dean was making his mission miserable and confusing. The human was perhaps the most perplexing thing he had ever encountered and it had been only a few minutes in his time. And the worst part was, that for all of his irritating insolence and anger, he wanted to know more about him. He felt compelled to understand this creature of God and he felt like they had the potential to be more alike than he desired.

The room stopped shaking. He turned back to Anna with his jaw set and his fists clenched, hidden in his sleeves. He liked Defiance out of Anger, but now he knew it must be placed in moderation around Anna. At least for now. "I have found him. Now what?" He bit out gruff.

"Yeah, now what?" Dean said, strolling towards the two angels. "Going to have yourself an angel party while you send me out to do all your dirty work?" Anna glanced at him and then back at Dean.

"You told him?" She whispered furiously. Castiel shifted his weight guiltily. Rules were still rules, and with breaking out of his Punishment and stealing a vessel over his head, he really shouldn't have bent any more. Especially since each step was closer to the act of Falling. "Castiel, I did not show you the future so you could just tell him every detail! There is a reason why it is called Fate, he must not know,"

"Yeah, and you guys sure are big on details. Gotta get the whole picture nice and pretty," Castiel's jaw twitched, for some reason, Dean's comment rubbed him the wrong way and it itched like it wasn't the first time he'd said so.

"Stay out of this, Dean, please," he said trying to be civil, casting a pleading look over his shoulder. Dean threw his hands up and took a step back to humour him, trying to ignore what those eyes brought up in his memories.

"No," Anna said suddenly, looking at Dean and then Sam as if she just noticed that they were privy to anything she said. "We'll talk later, when you're alone and I know exactly where you are." She leaned closer to Castiel and pressed her lips to his ear.

"Until I call, stay here and watch him." Her voice was firm and final, each word standing by itself. "Do not let him leave your sights or there will be hell to pay," She jabbed a finger into his stomach and the breath there stirred again like before, this time just as a warning and less nauseating.

Castiel just nodded meekly and she stepped back with a small smile before popping out. Dean gave a low whistle shortly that gained his attention. "So, you and Anna? Didn't see that coming,"

Castiel froze with a mortified look. "The idea of Anna and I is just...wrong." He looked down and didn't voice his thoughts that her every action felt wrong, changed somehow like she wasn't herself anymore.

"Yeah, _wrong_." Sam said, nudging Dean in the shoulder. Dean fixed him a look and he shut up, minding his own business with a frustrated sigh.

"Well, boys, if you're up to it- what the hell happened to my kitchen! Outta the way, son," Bobby said, wheeling past Sam.

"I am sorry, I should have controlled my anger," Castiel said earnestly. He could sense, out of them all, that this man would be the most sympathetic during this situation.

"You, you're back?" Bobby turned to Sam and Dean and then back. "Well? Did you two kiss and make-up?" Castiel paled and Dean just glared at the floor, crunching a piece of glass underneath his boots. "Guess not. Well, that's too bad. 'Course, you're Winchesters; what was I thinking that things were ever gonna be easy?"

"He wants me," Dean ground out slowly. "To stop _more_ demons from breaking _more_ seals. How the hell am I supposed to apologize to that sorry son of a bitch if he expects me to do that all over _again_, Bobby!"

"For starters, how about we ask him, you idjit!" Bobby shouted back. "So, Castiel, what is it you want?"

Castiel blinked at him, shifting slowly back to Dean. He sucked in his bottom lip a tad and his blue orbs darted around wide-eyed. "I've, I've never-" he stopped, unable to speak as he looked at Dean and his chest hurt. He looked down and saw his hand clenching painfully at his chest and he stared at it as if it was something apart from him. He tried viewing Sam; he could hear his vessel's heart beating loudly in his ears still and finally turned to Bobby. It was much easier to address him than either Winchester boy.

"I don't want," he stated, leaving it at that neither denying nor consenting to the charges since he didn't know his full orders yet. He also wasn't sure if he should tell any human more information on anything, having already broken that rule just earlier in terms of their future.

"Well ain't that just peachy," Dean began quietly. Bobby swivelled around in his chair to face him, lurking next to, almost in his brother's shadow.

"I used to remember a time when you gave that angel respect whether you were pissed at him or not, boy," he responded, leaving Castiel to wonder why things changed so much. Everything seemed to change, not just Anna and Heaven but Earth too and he had a sinking feeling that it was centred around him. "Anyways, I found a case nearby for you two yahoos to check out if you felt up to it."

"Oh, we're up for it, we're definitely up for it," Dean said in his confidant manner.

Sam sighed and shrugged hopelessly. "I guess we're up for it, Bobby." Bobby looked between the both of them and sighed as well.

"Good. It would be nice to finally have you both out of the house but," he hesitated before looking directly at Dean. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"Bobby, I'm fine," his eyes passed over to Castiel's form on their own. "I can handle myself and if not...that's why I bring Sammy along."

"Gee, thanks," Sam muttered, but the comment rolled off him like it was just another drop of rain. "So, what is it, Bobby?"

"I'm thinking it's either ghosts or possession of some type, something real simple to get you back into the game." Dean grimaced for a moment and then looked over at the lonely angel whom was still just standing in the same spot since Anna arrived. He sighed.

"Fine. Sounds great, Bobby, thanks," he tried to sweeten the sound of sarcasm in his voice and still got an evil eye from Bobby. "Take care of Cas, will ya?" He left without hearing any more about their so-called case, he just really needed to get out of there, away from Castiel, away from the memories.

He sat alone in his Impala, deep in his own little world, replaying the scene of their first goodbye over and over again like a torturous film dedicated to the biggest mistake in his life. He didn't even notice when Sam slid into the passenger's seat beside him.

"Hey, you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He said after realising he was being spoken to. He turned the key to his baby. "Sometimes, even I can't- Jesus, Cas!" Dean jumped, looking out the window scowling as the car purred under his fingertips. "Get a fucking bell, will ya?"

"I thought you couldn't find us," Sam said simply, tired of the awkward cat-and-mouse his brother was playing at. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth; it was Dean's fault if he wanted to be a stubborn ass about things.

Castiel sighed. "I can't. Someone must have put an Enochian sigil on you,"

"Yeah, you did. Carved it into us like meat," Dean responded, curling his lip and looking at him through the rear-view mirror.

The angel blinked. "I apologize, I do not remember doing so."

"So, how come you're here now?" Sam interjected before Dean could make another snide remark.

"I...do not know," he said, looking like the words were distasteful to him as he spoke. He paused and stared at the roof as if the answer was inscribed there or something equally distracting. "There was something...familiar about the place. I was drawn to it."

"That's not what he meant. Why are you _here_, Castiel?" Dean said, giving in to Sam's not so subtle ploy but not without giving his brother a long, withering glance. "Why are you suddenly back?"

"I am on orders."

"Whose orders?" He asked, sparing a quick look from the road.

"Anna's,"

"Back to the old pecking order, eh?"

Castiel peered at Dean curiously before giving a small nod. "Anna has always been my superior,"

Sam laughed. "Not when you tried to kill her, she wasn't,"

"I would never harm my sister," he deadpanned, looking at the younger brother. "She told me I committed sins of the flesh, not attempted murder." Dean coughed, trying to cover up his choking noise. Castiel continued. "She also said it was with the same human she fornicated with."

"Oh, god," Dean moaned. "God is out to get me."

"But I thought you said that I was the one who would be wanting to Smite you," Castiel asked innocently as Sam had to bite his lips and look away to prevent any laughter escaping. He knew he would pay dearly for it later if he didn't and he wasn't sure if he could handle Dean at this pissed off level. It was way worse than when he had to deal with Michael.

"New plan. Screw any immediate orders from Heaven; as soon as we finish this case, we are getting your damn memories back."

Castiel shut his eyes, an overwhelming sense of fear flooded through him and all he wanted to do was stop. The engine in the car suddenly stilled and wheezed a slow death and Dean swore. "Not now, baby, not now."

"Dean," Castiel whispered on the verge of a whimper. "Do not search for a way to return my memories. They will be...painful."

Dean stilled like his car and closed his eyes like he was in pain himself. "How would you know, Cas?" he barely mumbled out. The air became very thick and heavy and depressing and Sam awkwardly made his way out as quietly as he could.

"I'm just going to...you guys better...Dean," he eventually just sighed, shutting the door and taking a nice long walk far away from those two. He could finally breath without them staring at each other constantly again. But it was worse because Castiel was clueless again, which meant even heavier, non-blinking stares, and Dean was super-pissed and horny, and that meant even more heated glares on his side. But of course, Dean would never admit that as of now, so he would have to be the one to put up with a very moody and constantly irritable big brother hell-bent on wading through his guilt and lust and anger by screaming and picking fights and almost dying. That was the Dean Winchester way and frankly, Sam was getting tired of it.

"How," Dean continued, his throat raw with emotion, once he felt that Sam had gotten far away enough. It was hard enough with Castiel back, he didn't want to break down and expose all of his true emotions in front of his brother. God, it was hard enough trying to stay angry at Castiel especially when the poor bastard didn't know how much of a dick he had been to the angel before. The guilt was literally eating away at him, making it impossible to even pretend to be mad. But he had to go through the motions for Sam, for Bobby. They didn't know how hard he had been hit, how much he had been in pain, how true it was that just living for him was hell without Castiel. They couldn't know, they wouldn't understand.

He knew that they knew he was acting, pretending to be his normal self. He _knew_ that they could see it was all an act but that they didn't care because he was trying. He knew that they couldn't possibly know that even his dreams were nightmares, that he only slept for two hours max and spent the rest of the night or day a mix between weeping or praying, that every time he was alone he was trying to find a way to die that would seem completely accidental. Fuck, it hurt him just to breath, to blink and know that every time he did, his angel wasn't going to pop in any time soon. And if he hadn't gone to Hell, he wouldn't have known the difference.

Angels were so much more worse than demons because they were just so _pure_. He had taken something that wasn't his and treated it with more affection than he had ever though possible to come from him and then ripped that all away bare like a really adhesive band-aid. And for what? _He_ didn't even know why he did that. All he knew was that he was stressed and panicked and he wanted to drive everyone away from him as if that would lesson the carnage. But that didn't excuse anything that he said or did to the angel. Somehow, he knew he was suffering the pain Castiel went through and he knew that to end it he had to make things right. Starting with getting Cas' memories back at any cost.


	5. Never Compromise for Less

_I tried to make Dean seem realistically conflicted based upon my own experiences but I have a feeling I failed. Review to reassure/cheer me up? Big apologies for taking so long, sex scenes are not my thing and then I totally scrapped the idea so...sorry?  
_

_Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain spoilers for post-end of the world, slightly AU and might contain a really bad plot-twist-ending with a small "crossover". Some language. Mentions of Dean/Castiel with brief details. Sad-eventual-happy!fic._

Castiel sighed and swallowed a lump in his throat. He looked down at his open hands in his lap; even they were begging Dean not to bring up the subject. "Look, I tried, Dean. I was warned and it hurt. Like the very literal Hell," he paused to look up at Dean through the middle space between the front seats. He could glimpse his profile that way at the very least and he felt like it was important to watch Dean's face through their interaction. "And I remember what Hell feels like through you. Though that did not quite feel like a memory of mine," he ended quietly, thoughtfully.

He heard Dean clench the wheel tighter, the squish of sudden pressure on rubber. "Great, just fucking peachy. You first remember _my nightmares_,"

Castiel wanted to ask him why his nightmares would be a primary concern, his tongue even itched to say the words since his mouth had already formed them. He had a theory that overtime he would slowly gain his memories, starting with the most important ones first. If he could figure out the importance of each memory, he could understand more and hopefully unlock others. But the puffs of Breath inside him disagreed with that idea. A lot. "I have a theory," he explained simply, so far allowed that much.

He saw Dean's eyebrows rise in expectation through the slim mirror inside the car that showed the backseat and its contents mostly. "Alright," he acquiesced after a great pause. "I'll bite. What is it?"

Dean would voluntarily take even the most boring Angel Theory 101 class right now just to distract him long enough to get his feelings back under some semblance of control. His emotions were always quick and furious, bubbling under his skin with the need to be released, when he came into contact with any angel. But significantly more wild and pulling with Castiel than any other, even Zachariah whom he _despised_. That was part of the reason anything the angels did or said was so irritating to him even though it was hypocritical of him, to an extent, not to agree. Although, some of it did just lie with them being annoying dicks, too. He assumed the reason for his even more haywire emotions at seeing Castiel had something to do with being raised from perdition by him and being given such a beautiful hand print to mark that passage in time.

And then they had only gotten closer, simply put, which made the emotions worse; at least after they had made love to kingdom come the emotions were easier to deal with, if still a good deal stronger than he would have liked. But now, after going so long without anything from his angel, he apparently lost every last bit of the control that it took years to achieve. It was almost like he and Cas, or their bodies at least, were meeting for the first time again. And all he wanted to do at the moment was star in some cheesy chick-flick moment and crawl into his lap- which had also taken years for him to accept the fact the first time around. In fact, he had to say that was a damn tempting offer right about now.

"I'm not sure I am at liberty to say," Castiel began, stopping to see if the Breath would agree with that. It did. He frowned, which was answer enough for Dean.

Well, that plan took a swan dive out the window. Dean fidgeted in his seat and half-sighed, half-groaned. He missed Cas, his Cas, and he wished to God he never said what he did. He was half-hoping that he died like he should have after failing Sammy and was suffering a new, more devastating Hell.

He cleared his throat into his fist and got out of the car, shutting the door with the familiar creak and slam. He leaned against it, shoving his hands nervously into his jacket pockets and took comfort in some of the familiar things for a moment before turning to face Castiel. He was back to being right in his face, defying _straight _male-male senses of comfort out of ignorance again.

Dean hated labeling himself as one thing or another anyways, but he couldn't avoid it; he had never been 100% heterosexual whenever Castiel was around, ever. First, it was their few bonding moments that always touched on a deeper level than he expected and then the staring. Especially the one time down in wherever on that Cupid case when neither could put down their phones for a long time. He remembered that moment clearly because he was sure that _he_ was feeling the angel's thoughts or emotions, or both, like he was the one with the fancy mind-trip powers. And he was just stunned by the same overwhelming sense of _feeling _inside Castiel. Immediately after that came the dreams, the unquestionable desire that left him mewling in the morning when he woke up hard. It became one of the many times he thanked God that Sammy was such a deep sleeper and definitely not the last.

Now, however, the awkwardness mostly resided in his decision to wear tight jeans, as per usual for him, without having his Cas to take them off like what became so usual. "Dammit," he muttered softly, licking his lips and fighting the urge to close his eyes and just _lean_.

Castiel fluttered closer, picking up on his internal sense and following it like always. "Are you well, Dean?" He was now as close as Anna was when she Breathed in him, but being this close to Dean felt different. More in the right state of mind, pleasant despite the churning hole in his middle.

"Yes- no. No," Dean violated step one and now stared at Castiel from the back of his eyelids. He instinctively moved closer and felt his heart race again. "Please tell me I'm on Heaven's version of Punk'd," he said attempting to sound like he was still breathing normally.

He could have literally pointed out the exact moment that Cas cocked his head in that irresistibly-adorable way even without sight. "What is this Punked?"

Step two was going, going..."God, Castiel, I missed you," Gone. He seriously would have to work on his lack of self-control. But later. Much later when his lips weren't tangoing with the short puffs that came out of the part in Cas' mouth. He had forgotten how warm they were, how they seemed to touch his core and make him shiver from the inside out. He had forgotten how good this felt, how good Cas made him feel at a time when he hated himself the most.

He didn't understand. These humans appeared to be able to swing from mood to mood just in an instant and Dean especially confused him. Just thinking about Dean caused him to ache; at least right now, it was more of a swirl of warmth churning inside him too hot to be pleasant but too cool to burn. And the way Dean was looking at him, the way he stood leaning as if he wanted to press up against his vessel's body. What did he want? What was he thinking?

The physical movement was superfluous. There was no reason why he felt the need to make them. As an Angel of the Lord and assigned Dean as his charge, he was perfectly in the right to read his mind if he felt so inclined. But there was something so familiar, so charming about the implied intimate gestures that he couldn't resist. He raised his hand, folding all but two fingers, and gently rested them on his forehead. Dean didn't seem to notice, and if Cas hadn't seen the breath escape from him, he wouldn't have known the quiet sigh his human made when he brushed them against his hair line.

It was soft, almost as soft as actual angel-feathers when fully manifested, and lightly tinged blonde from all his time outdoors. Lighter than the dark hair of his brother, at least, and shorter too. It lay tight against his head but full still, no patches or thining in sight. No grey spots for that matter too. Just young and healthy and beautiful. God's favourite Creation reflected in the image of Him, in the image of Dean. He wanted to Sing again.

Castiel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, wanting to understand everything about him, _Dean_, and _them _together.

_Dean sat hunched over on the lonely park bench underneath the cover of a full tree. Its branches swayed in the light breeze and he shivered. It was dark now and his body was already missing the intense warmth Castiel resonated, the peace and love too. Now that he was alone, he just kept picking out his faults, the reasons why he shouldn't be alive._

_He was broken, dead inside. _

_He tortured souls, and he _enjoyed_ it._

_He started the Apocalypse._

_He gave up on his brother._

_He was a mindless tool of his father's devices._

_He didn't deserve love or forgiveness; he didn't deserve to be saved._

_He couldn't win; he was a failure._

_The world would simply be better off without him leaving a trail of empty beer bottles, broken hearts and depleted bank accounts. A trail with no meaning in it.  
_

_There was so much wrong with him. "Why am I here?" he whispered to himself._

_"I don't know," Castiel answered simply from beside him. He too sat hunched over with his hands on his lap clasped neatly, looking sideways at and speaking to Dean like he was a complete idiot or maybe just a lost and confused child. "I had thought that, since you didn't run from me the first few times, you wouldn't any other time. Am I to be a...five-night stand of yours, Dean?"_

_Dean was tempted to smile, encouraged by his presence to forget the gloom. He was just afraid that, if he did, it would only come back later worse and at a more inopportune time. He would have to treat it as if he was hunting a monster; kill it on the first go or the second or the third, but definitely try for it all at once. "Why do you love me, Cas, and I mean really love me?" Might as well start with the million-dollar question.  
_

_His angel looked away for a moment in pregnant silence. He stared at the calm scenery before them, viewed the cloudless dark sky, looked at his folded hands and spoke to them. "I, uh, I don't know that either. You were my charge, I was the one appointed the task of raising you from perdition. Uriel scolded me from the start because he thought I gripped you too tightly." _

_He paused where a normal person would have chuckled bitterly or sarcastically, but not him. Not Cas. Cas just picked his head up and looked into his eyes meaningfully, forcing Dean to look back at him and see himself reflected in those orbs. Unblinkingly he took Dean's hands in his and caressed them, kissing each finger with the same tenderness and his eyes still only on Dean. "But when I saw you, even at your lowest, I knew that there was something that deserved to be saved inside you, Dean. And I will Fall to preserve that for you."_

_He stood up and looked out into the distance but even then Dean still felt compelled to watch him. To continue the nonexistent eye-contact. "Man was not made to be perfect. Angels were; and even we have our faults. My fault seems to be feeling too much, loving you too much. Yours is giving up too much of yourself for others. If anything, you may be too perfect for this world, Dean, remember that," Castiel looked back with a bright glint in his eyes and a small smile. The seriousness had ended and was lifted like it was a discardable layer of clothing. "I'll be waiting in the car for you to give some more of yourself to me."_

_Dean couldn't help himself this time and grinned fully. "Did an Angel of the Lord just give me the longest pick-up line ever?"_

_"Did it work?" Dean walked up to Castiel and kissed him gently, all traces of his self-hatred gone as soon as their lips met._

Castiel's eyes widened, his cheeks burning even though he didn't understand some of the things that the past of himself said. But at least he understood the compelling desire to be closer to Dean and the swirl in his stomach could be identified finally as lust. He realized now that when he Sang, he was Singing about their love that they shared, the love that he missed, the love that he wanted to feel again.

His heart pounded almost painfully and he licked his lips as he watched Dean's mouth with an intense hunger. They were so close, so achingly close. He could smell Dean's signature scent, feel it trickle its way inside him and stay there like Anna's Breath. But this again was different, right and pleasant. He _wanted_ it to stay, to memorize it and recognize it everywhere. The tender musk of an arrogant but sensitive man who knew that only through hardship could he get what he so wanted and still loved to sit on a porch in the early morning after the rains. The earthy quality of someone who roams, not caring of what kind of messes he would get into on the way, trying to find a home where he could belong but still be wild and free. The sweet scent of a person so pure and so broken, a child who falls and gets back up again, a soldier who fights for love and family and is honor-bound to stay true to himself.

He wanted to memorize the feeling of Dean's lips on him, see their just-been-pinched cherry colour in roses and be able to taste their smooth fullness in his dreams. He wanted to remember the feeling of his body flush against his in passionate excess, heat fogging the air while their minds slowly uncleared and to memorize the feeling of Dean inside him. He could see why Dean was easily an obsession of his; easily understandable why he would Fall for him or in love with him.

_You are dangerously close to committing the same sins of the flesh again. _His own inner voice warned him, but he didn't care. He wanted this and the Breath agreed with him this time.

Castiel hesitated though, the motions of this familiar act to Dean and the past of himself now unfamiliar to him. _I will just have to ask Dean to teach me again. _He thought, and it sounded more like it belonged as a thought of the past him rather than him now at this moment. It was too forward and confident. Still, he latched onto that false bravado and used it to propel himself against Dean's lips.

Dean almost jumped at feeling Castiel smash their lips together. He wasn't expecting it; expecting was far different from hoping in any case. The first time Castiel initiated a kiss, he took more than 12 seconds to figure out just how to go about it. But at least one thing was still the same at first, he would always be a kiss-and-run type of guy.

Before he could pull away completely, Dean wrapped a secure hand to the back of his head to keep him no more than a few inches away. He opened his eyes slowly to take in his Cas before he could go away to what he was before. Old Cas. He absorbed the dark flush to his face, drank in the lusty glint in his wild blue eyes and imbibed his scent. His glorious, untainted, clean, fresh and innocent scent that was second only to the smell of a glorious, tainted, dirty, sweaty and thoroughly ravaged angel. It was a musk so unique that it never smelled the same way twice as it repeated itself in a never-ending circle after a period of time had passed by between bouts of sex.

He pointedly flickered his eyes back down to his plump lips that begged to be kissed and looked back up, letting a growing smirk bloom across his face. Castiel widened his eyes even more, took a disbelieving breath in and flickered his eyes multiple times back and forth himself. He licked his lips again and bit the lower one harshly, as if pain could restrain him from making what should be by all accounts a mistake but somehow felt as far as one could be from it.

"I know you want me," Dean said softly, applying the gentlest amount of pressure to inch him closer on his own accord. He assumed that something had enlightened him to their sexual tension and if he had the balls to kiss him because of it, he would still do it after the moment of pensive deep-thinking. And then Dean could pretend that he had his Cas back and he wouldn't feel so pathetic all the time; he could smile and actually laugh and be a big brother to Sammy again if he had just one moment to dream of.

It was selfish and he was using Castiel probably in some weird paradox way but dammit, he needed Cas. And wasn't he the one that said he gave himself too much? What was one moment of taking then?

"I know you want me," he repeated quieter. "Almost as much as I want you." He pressed his lower section against him and tilted his head up. "Why don't you just take?"

Castiel dipped closer by his own choosing, touching noses with Dean before stopping, that he would concede to. But he did stop, so the lust wasn't in complete control of him, which made things altogether better and worse at the same time. Better because he was free to decide what to do and when and worse because he knew he was going to make all of the wrong choices. "What if I Fall?" he managed to croak out.

Dean blinked, thrown again, and slid his hand down Cas' side back to his own. He was beginning to feel the guilt he expected to come afterwards with that one question. The first time, Castiel was being a little angel rebel and didn't start to care until Falling became equivalent with the only way to stay with Dean, with or without his angel mojo. Then, it later became his way of saying 'I love you'. For Cas to say it now meant that he wasn't taking advantage of a dick-again Castiel, but a mind-swept regular Castiel. And that was like kicking a puppy. But he_ needed _Cas again, to feel, to live, to forget for just one moment. If only his old shrink knew his relationship with his angel; they would have to rewrite the definition of codependency, at least when it was one-sided.

"You won't, I promise you," he said feeling sick and disgusted with himself, hating the way his voice sounded so wobbly and weak. But that wasn't too different from before and he had lived, or more like, existed with that. He could, probably, do it again.

Luckily, he didn't have much more time to brood upon it since Castiel's mouth was such a good distraction. As good of a distraction as it had always been before, mashing lips, teeth, and tongue in a battle that could not be won. Dean groped alongside his other baby, pulling hard on the handle to the backseat. His heart thudded as it remembered that this was the same place as before, though under much different circumstances, that he had taken the virginity of two angels. And he was about to do it again. Sort of.

The door opened quietly, or at least nowhere near the roar of leftover blood rushing in his ears, and he debated silently with himself whether or not to go through with this plan of action. Guilt was making a home in his stomach and he was pretty sure it would stay there for awhile. Not the best condition to be having sex that he had ever been in. _Dammit, Castiel. You always have to complicate things. _

He trembled slightly with desire and repulsion, at a crossroads again. Every time he was there, he always made the wrong decision. He was rash, he said the wrong things, he crumbled when pushed too hard and rebelled against the ones he loved. He hurt more people than he had saved and had killed all the others; hurt Meg, killed Hendrickson, hurt Sam, killed Jo, hurt Bobby, caused his own dad's death, hurt Lisa and most of all, had hurt Cas over and over again. He wanted to make the right decision this time, begin to right the terrible wrongs he had done but he didn't know how. It was hard and he just wanted to feel unconditionally loved again like before. Something simple, something easy, something...safe.

"Dean, am I doing something wrong?" Dean shook his head, unable to bear to face Cas' eyes after hearing his timid, unsure voice. Not with all the ugly swarm of emotions swirling inside him. And especially not with an echo of that same undercurrent of want to feel loved inside Cas too.

"No," he said, his voice unnecessarily hoarse. "You're perfect, you always have been."

Castiel grabbed Dean's hands in his and kissed each finger softly and he began to gasp before he could stop himself. It ended up sounding like a cat being strangled underwater.

"No, no," he moaned, pulling his hands away. "Stop. This...this isn't right," He flexed his fingers slowly, tracing the invisible imprint of Castiel's lips on them with his eyes and shivered. Ever since his Cas had found out how sensitive his knuckles were- and for him, Cas's hips- he jumped at every chance to use that against him. It still worked. He was harder and more ill at ease with himself than before. This wasn't right. It was easy, but it wasn't right. He was better than this.

Dean turned around and hunched as if his stance could protect him from Castiel, or rather, from himself. "I fell in love with you, but you now...you just_ aren't_ you," he sighed and whispered under his breath. "Nothing feels right anymore; I don't know what to do."

Castiel cocked his head and squinted at Dean, not that he would know, and absorbed the chaotic being in front of him. For some reason, just as Dean could insist on how the angel was changed, so could the angel know Dean was not the same man he once was. "It seems as if at this current interlude in time, it would be best for us to simply remain comrades in regards to one another," he said slowly, having come to a consensus on what was the most diplomatic way to say what needed to be said.

Dean gave a short, almost hysteric based laugh, and rubbed a hand down his face. "Pretending I don't give a fuck about you, right, this will end well."

"I don't understand," he continued as Dean turned back to face him. "Are you agreeing with me or not?"

"It's sarcasm, Cas, something you're going to have to get used to quick. Again." He easily slid into the comfort of his Impala; the one thing that was so simple and never changed in his life it seemed nowadays. "Now, get in the car and let's find Sammy,"

* * *

"I think Bobby was messing with us," Dean grumbled as he threw down another book that he quickly scanned or anything supernatural-related.

"I think you're right," Sam agreed, walking back towards Dean in the typical, abandoned "haunted" house stereotype complete with cobwebs and no working electricity. "This house is completely clean." Castiel hung around in the shadows while they began to pick up, trusting his instincts again to lead him to whatever it is that was causing alarm. The building truly was uninhabited for years, perhaps decades if one went by the level of dust and decay. There was still drops leaking from the ceiling in the middle of summer when it had rained four months ago onto a roof in desperate need of repair. Now it played background music to the creeking of floorboards underneath the angel's otherwise silent feet.

He ran his hand on the debris that laid likea blanket over an abandoned piano and raised it to his nose. There was a burning-like scent attached to the dust that he couldn't quite place. He strode over to the plain wood-walls to see if they too had random fire damage, but they were bare. He narrowed his eyebrows and walked right into the centre of the room, kicking at the floor with a controlled anxiousness.

"Hey, Cas, are you going to be joining us on the ride back to Bobby's or what?" Dean asked, popping his head back around the corner. "Cas?"

"Dean." Castiel greeted finally, moving to squat down by the area he had just cleaned off. "What does this smell like to you?" Dean hesitantly joined the angel and pressed his fingers into the floor.

"Sulfur," he growled before the stench could reach his nose. "Demons. Sam!" he called, rising. Castiel remained, wondering why he couldn't determine that himself.

"What is it?" the younger brother asked walking back into the study. "Did you find something?"

"Cas did," Dean said with an odd grin on his face, looking closer to a grimace. "Turns out we have something demonic going on in this house."

Castiel suddenly stood up, looking oddly attentive to the ceiling and quickly forgetting his classification woes. "That's not all there is," he said quietly before moving into a prayer that he wasn't sure would be respected given his status as more of a "rogue" angel. Sam flashed a light onto the ceiling, following his look out of curiousity and both Winchesters cringed at the starkly clear image of the shadow-imprint of a dead angel's wings in return.


	6. Never Let Them Go

_Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain small spoilers, AU and probably a really bad plot-twist-ending with a small "crossover". Some crewd language. Mentions of Dean/Castiel with brief details.  
_

"An angel was murdered?" Bobby asked, his brows lowered in a sign of his perplexity. He scratched a part of his head underneath his hat and sighed, pacing the floor of his study since the boys had called him. "Are you sure, Dean?"

_"We do have our very own angel with us again, Bobby,"_ greeted him from the other end. _"And it is rather obvious."_

"Well, that's no reason to get snarky with me, boy," he hissed. "This is really atypical behaviour since the whole entire mostly peace-on-earth after Lucifer is all I meant. Have you figured out when it happened most likely yet, or even more importantly, who?"

He heard a sigh and some crinkling noise; Dean must be moving to another area in the house. The sound of a bad connection increased to a level where it just begins to be annoying. _"No, just that it was a demon of some sort. But we have other news...Castiel can't sense demons anymore. I'm willing to bet he can't sense evil at all, Bobby,"_

"What kind of poppycock are you trying to sell me? An angel who can't sense demons-" he paused. "Are you high again?"

_"It was once, Bobby, once! And I was depressed-" _Bobby chuckled at his aggravated tone. _"Oh, real funny. This is serious, we need to find out who did this."_

"Is that you talking or is that Castiel?" Bobby asked in complete earnest. He didn't receive an automatic reply and he pushed on with a bit more disappointment and bite in his tone. "Did you even sort things out with him, Dean?"

_"Yes," _Dean bit out petulantly. There was a pause. _"Sort of. It's not like it's really important right this very minute, okay? I'm sure we can hone it down to specifics in no time."_

"Dean, you should know better than-"

_"I can handle myself around him. I'm fine, Bobby, I'll be fine. Trust me."_

Bobby reluctantly conceded with a sigh and sat down behind his desk. "I'm just worried about you Dean; you two are like sons to me and a lot has happened already today, you don't need to strain yourself."

_"I know, Bobby," _he sounded exhausted; and he probably was, since he didn't argue or make some comment about chick-flick moments.

"It's late, Dean, why don't you come home and we can talk more about the case from here?"

_"Yeah...come home..." _There was a few seconds of silence before he hung up and Bobby stared at his phone for a longer time afterwards. "God help that boy," he muttered.

* * *

Dean slowly removed the cell phone from his ear and folded it in half. Home always had a different meaning for him. For the longest time it was the house where his mother died. Then he really didn't consider anywhere his home. He used to think that maybe Lisa could be his home, but more recently, a year ago, Castiel had radiated his sense of the meaning of home. Being with Castiel used to be when he was truly at peace, no matter where that was, and wasn't that the true meaning of a home?

He slouched against the house's remaining wall-frame and wondered briefly who had considered this place a home, if anyone had. It seemed unlikely with the condition it was in now, but someone had to have loved it. Everything had to belong to someone before it could be abandoned or forgotten. He pressed his fingers into a crack in the wall, tapping them there idly and sighed.

"This house reminds me of you, Dean," Castiel said, making him jump and cut himself on the jagged wood.

"Shit," he responded, pressing down on the tip of his fingers before popping them in his mouth. He looked back at his intruder. "What are you doing here?" he slurred, distinctly remembering he entered the room to get away from the others.

The angel moved closer, ignoring the question, and took Dean's fingers out of his mouth. "I apologize for causing you pain, will you at least let me heal it?" Dean faintly recognized that he was nodding a response and licked his lips as he watched the healing light come from the angel's own hands. It gave him a faint tingle for the few seconds it was sustained and he released a shaky breath when Castiel removed his hand. He stared into deep, blue eyes, for the longest time trying to obey their unofficial ruling and not snog the hell out of him.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated once he remembered how to function again. Breathing normally came right after that.

"I was looking for you," he answered this time, already sounding guilty of something. The blue eyes looked away and Dean blinked to finally clear himself. "I can't stand being around Samuel, he keeps giving me these glances and shuffles around a lot. I don't understand him. When I'm near you," the eyes returned to his face. "Everything makes a little more sense, a little more at peace." Dean watched him swallow, fixating on his exposed throat, and caught his eyebrows narrow in confusion, anger.

"I am sorry, I am having difficulties in remaining strictly comrades. I should go," he started to dip his head as if he was giving Dean a little goodbye-bow.

"Wait," Dean whispered, unable to raise his voice in fear of ruining the moment as his brain caught up to him. "What did you say earlier?" He could have sworn Castiel blushed, but he turned away too quickly to be sure.

"It was nothing of relevance," he said quickly, almost tripping over the words. He couldn't believe how nervous and self-doubting he was feeling right now. He was an angel, doing God's Work no less, he shouldn't even know what self-doubt was! 'I seem to be speeding through every human emotion possible on earth.' Castiel quickly shifted his glance back at Dean for a moment. 'Maybe it's just Dean's influence...but what then could be my Duty?' That question left a bitter taste in his mouth and more questions than he wanted to ever know. It wasn't an angel's place to question holy authority, but only to serve in the name of the Lord. Even if it resulted in death.

'It must simply be the death of a brethren reaching my nerves,' he eventually decided upon as a conclusion even though he knew that that wasn't completely it.

"What was it?" Dean insisted this time, placing his previously wounded hand on Castiel's shoulder and unknowingly banishing away every thought in the angel's head. He focused so much on Dean and the feel of Dean that he almost lost all of his bearing.

He heard a long sigh and saw the angel hang his head as he mumbled the answer. "I said that this house reminds me of you,"

"Why?" he asked after a moment of deliberating on whether or not he actually wanted to hear the answer. His throat felt suddenly dry and raspy as he realized that it wasn't about the answer, it was about what he would discern the meaning behind it to be.

"I was listening to your thoughts; I couldn't help it, they seem to call to me," he amended seeing Dean's gaze harden. "And I realized that the way you described the house was the same way you, harshly, describe yourself: cold, empty, abandoned, lonely. I wish I knew what happened to...us to make you feel this way."

"No, you don't...you don't Cas, you would hate me." Dean said almost immediately following his words, pulling away from the angel sub-consciously. Castiel silently mourned the loss of contact. "I never deserved you anyways,"

A sudden flash transported Castiel into what seemed one of his memories. He watched Dean preparing for some onslaught with Bobby right by his side, guns loaded and knives ready, in some sort of bunker. Lightning flashed and the doors sprung wide open revealing himself to be entering the facility. He nearly smiled at the expression on both of their faces, the fear in their eyes at his display of power. But as the light bulbs reacted to his presence, he caught something in the glare and stared uncomprehendingly.

There was something different about himself then, something that he was missing now. Was it confidence? Was it knowing exactly what he had to do on Earth and having complete Faith in what he was told? Could this all be due to Dean's influence; but if so, why would he be required to stay close to something so corrupting to his nature?

The Breaths attacked him violently, eating away at his insides and producing a screeching noise that rendered him unable from focusing on anything but his pain. 'This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong' he chanted inside his head gritting against the electric spasms created, but it only made things worse. He was sure he was screaming along with the screeches now but there would be no way he could hear it. He didn't understand why Anna would do this to him. How she could do this to him. What would be the point of it unless-

He closed his eyes and prayed that it wasn't true. Anna was the only angel that believed in him to any worth and if she didn't trust him to stay on the path...

Something was very wrong.

He opened his eyes and the pain had finally died down, however reluctantly, so he could return to the scene before him. Some other Force was intervening here on his behalf. There would be time later to think on that though.

Bobby had been sedated by his past self and he and Dean were involved in a serious conversation, no less than a foot away from each other. "Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" Dean was still the same. He shook his head and stepped forward at the same time his counterpart was moving. Apparently, so was he.

"Good things do happen, Dean," he heard himself say, though he sounded much more rough and impersonal. This must be their first time meeting. He could tell how guarded he was just from that.

"Not in my experience," Dean said with complete certainty. But the worst part was the gleam of reliving Hell everyday so clear and visible in his eyes as he said that.

He must have seen that somewhat by the way he tilted his head to the side with sadness as he spoke. "What's the matter?" He paused just for a moment, obviously scrying the top of his thoughts, and continued with a softer, knowing tone. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."

That was right on the spot, it had to be; even Dean couldn't deny that. So he lowered his head, kept his eyes out of sight. "Why'd you do it?"

"Because God Commanded it," he had said without hesitation. But then he paused and licked his lips slightly and Castiel saw the first start of a connection between the two of them. It was almost like they were destined to be together or at least fated to be near perfect opposites to the other.

A sad sort of anger trickled slowly in him, pooling into a sliver of a taste at the bottom of his stomach. Yes, he was angry that Dean was denying this for whatever reason that suited him; but it wasn't enough to be angry at him. Dean _had_ to feel it as well. It was a bond that transcended all normal conventions, bridged the gap between Heaven and Earth and resonated deeply within each other. He would have to somehow convince Dean of this, teach him not to fear it. And he felt purely justified by the next words, mentally agreeing with himself in this newer context, that came out of his past self's mouth. "Because we have Work for you."

This was his Mission. It had to be.

He felt himself be pulled out of that memory and composed himself for a moment before he said anything to Dean. He was still a little shaken up after everything that happened just then. But even with that moment, his words held an extra bite that he didn't quite intend on.

"It seems that what ever the scenario, Dean, the Castiel inside your head always hates you. Maybe you should start to think about the one in front of you instead," Before Dean could think of a response, his angel was gone; almost as if he had dreamed the entire encounter. It was almost better if he had actually dreamed it, certainly better if his entire life had been one bad nightmare. Then all he would have to do is wake up for everything to be ok again.

He looked at his healed fingers, torn between feeling jealous of their clean slate and feeling stupid for feeling that way. Torn between his present self and his past self. Dean flexed his fingers and smiled at the thought of what his past self would say at his behaviour now. He wouldn't get it; the newer, desperate, exhausted him. Old Dean would have gotten that disgusted, betrayed look and demand to know what the hell happened to make him give up like this. Never mind ruining the whole balance of the world and whatnot, Old Dean would set out to fix things, actually would be able to set them right again.

'Which is exactly what I wish I could do, wish I knew_ how_ to do.' He rubbed his forehead and sighed. They were all tired- that was it. This was all a product of emotional exhaustion that strained even Sammy. Maybe they really should just return to Bobby's. It would only be a bunch of dead-ends here anyways at this point.

* * *

"Do you need to sleep?" Castiel blinked at the question like it was a physical object in his face obstructing his view of Dean. It was a fair question, he supposed, even though he had to actually stop and think about it.

"What?" became his only intelligent response after a long pause.

"What's your deal? Are you like half-human at this point or pretty much full- fledged angel?" Dean asked this time, starting to get a little antsy.

"I understand that even less," he actually said without lengthy measure this time.

"Dean, stop freaking out and come eat. If Cas needs to sleep then the couch is always welcome, you don't need to fuss over it," Bobby called out, shaking his head. "And Sam, stop doing whatever you're doing with the lap-top. Trying to get you two to eat once in awhile shouldn't be this hard. Especially for boys your age,"

Dean hovered about, eyeing Castiel and then the kitchen, with his mouth open and waiting to make a retort. He was half-tempted to say "I'm not freaking out. Do I look like I'm freaking out?" but that was obviously detrimental so he settled with a long, drawn-out "Fine. Fine, I'll eat." He even made motions towards entering the kitchen before stopping and confronting the angel again. "Do you need to eat?" he asked, a bit more gentle and less sudden this time around.

"Dean, just eat." Sammy said, shutting his computer down on the table by the couch and laughing to himself. Dean still glared at him anyways before rubbing his face. "I need a cheeseburger. And an apple pie," he muttered. Bobby just shook the white bag at him, opting for a non-verbal response this time.

Castiel watched them all gather around the table and begin their meal before popping over next to Dean to inspect this food that was previously offered to him. His shoulders tensed almost immediately and Castiel watched his hunched form with a little of that anger residue appearing in the way he gazed. Bobby shared a meaningful look with Sam who shook his head silently. "Just watch," he muttered. "Let them battle it out."

"Are you sure?" Bobby asked, eyeing Dean warily. Sam only nodded, taking a bite out of his salad.

"Do you want something?" Dean eventually sighed at the hovering angel. He turned around in his chair and stared at Castiel for a moment, feeling the tension reach its boiling point. Being around Castiel was starting to make him paranoid. Among other things.

He paused, clearly watching the situation and adjusting his temperament. He gave Dean a bemused glance, leaning closer until his face was barely inches away from Dean's and his body strained against the wood of the chair. "I would like a taste of human food," he said simply, listening carefully to the heartbeat of his charge and watching his face for any slight changes.

Dean watched him back just as thoroughly and then cleared his throat. This was a challenge. He gave his usual cocky smile that he hadn't worn in too long and shifted his body away from Castiel in a more relaxed pose. "Go ahead, find something that isn't claimed yet," he said, returning to his burger in front of him and feigning nonchalance. Castiel reached out before he could take a bite out of it, snatching his right wrist and directing it towards his mouth. Dean's breath hitched pleasantly, his pupils dilating as they searched the confines of memories lost to the angel, and his hand trembled just so. But the sweetest thing was the faint pick-up in speed of his heartbeat. The one thing that no one, not even Dean, could truly deceive. Dean just had to relearn it the hard way.

He made sure that Dean's dark eyes stayed locked in his own as he looked over his left shoulder to see him take one glorious bite out of _his_ food. He hadn't intended for the cheeseburger, as it was called, to be so good. But it was all the better since he wasn't sure that he could fake an agreeable response. His heartbeat spiked phenomenally anyways.

'Oh, holy hell...' Dean closed his eyes, barely restraining the urge to moan out loud. His lips just might have his teeth marks in them permanently. But -_good god!_- was it the most sensual thing he could ever think of at this moment in time. First, the ol' staring-creepily-at-each-other-without-blinking contest and then the way Castiel practically gave his sandwich a blow job right in front of him. And then that moan. Where the hell did that moan come from?

_Fuck_. His shivers had shivers. His control was ready to drop to sub-sub-zero levels. All he wanted to do was take Castiel and throw himself on Bobby's dining table and break it this time.

He opened his eyes slowly, half-lidded, just as his hand and cheeseburger was returning to him. He remembered that night he took Castiel out to properly wine and dine him very clearly.

_"Dean. What is this?" He loved it when his angel was so confused. Castiel kept looking around at all the people that were trying to be subtle about staring and whispering at them and then back at him with his puppy-face and head tilt. Dean reached out to cover his hand, fueling the volume of the whispers, and smiled. A genuine smile, the kind that only Castiel could pull out of him._

_"I-I've been thinking about what you've said," he said quietly after a cough. It wasn't the easiest thing for him to admit, especially after having treated Castiel the way he did. You don't do that to a person. More so an angel. And he was sufficiently embarrassed to have to admit that he was a douche bag in that regard. But he had to carry on. _

_"And you were right. I need to appreciate you more, I need to show you that. I'm no good at all of these emotions running inside me, and I really hate doing those sappy _boyfriend_ things with all of the, um, you know. But it's not an excuse," he added hastily at the darkening look in those bluer-than-blue eyes. So impossibly blue and all his. "It's a warning that it will take time for me to be what you want, what I want to be for you."_

_"I know you've been trying," Castiel said, softer than he had ever spoken before. He took his blue eyes away to gaze at the table, his tackled hand sliding, falling into his lap with them. It made Dean's eyes mist and a lump form in his throat. What a monster he was that Cas couldn't even stand his touch anymore. "And you know just what you've done. There is no reason for you to do any of this when it was much more efficient to simply tell me at home, in private."_

_The last two words cut more than he thought they would coming from Castiel's mouth. He winced visibly. He couldn't understand why he would ever want to hide their relationship; but that was then, this was now. To quote Cinderella, he didn't know what he had until it was gone. At least there was no hiding the faint pleased blush he saw creep into his angel's cheeks. "Yes there is," he heard himself rasp. Those lovely eyes came back. God, he missed the way those eyes would look at him. "_You_ want it. You want to be here, out in public, out to the world. I know I've been doing it wrong; it's as hard for you as it is for me, and you haven't once complained. Cas," he shook his head. "God, Cas, I abused you and you were an angel about it all, no pun intended."_

_He paused to admire the lowered-brow-unhappy-pout that was given to him at that comment and his pearly whites gleamed more than he wanted them to. Nothing ever went as planned with this one. "We are in a relationship. A real, working, girly-love-fest relationship. That means I have to stop being so god-damn selfish all the time. It's your turn. What do you want from me?"_

_There was a brief bout of time where, as Castiel's face darkened and became unreadable, he thought he had gone mad. A little panic and fear jump started his heart seeing that all-too-familiar gleam coat his blue eyes. He blinked and regretted his decision for that nano-second only. As he re-opened his eyes, a calm washed over him feeling suspiciously-wonderfully like forgiveness. He knew what Castiel was going to ask of him and he knew he could handle it. His angel had Heaven's version of All-State hands, even when he was spitting holy fire at him in anger._

_"I want to Punish you, Dean," that gravely voice told him. He felt his Adam's apple bob as he nodded and was whisked away._

_Bobby's table was a hard surface to thump naked flesh on, even if the smack from the two surfaces made a delicious wave of power flow into him from Castiel's hard arms. Sometimes he missed the foreplay of undressing when his lover had the ability to blink away everything._

_He definitely didn't miss the feeling of pure angel hammering away at his insides, though. Even if he had a nasty friction-burn on his back for weeks. Or if he had to endure the looks Bobby gave him as he sprayed everything in his house with harsh disinfectants so vehemently it was like he suspected demons were hiding in his furniture. Sam's pure unadulterated horror the next morning when he found them still collapsed on top of the table they used to eat food off of helped too._

"Cas," his voice came out much more huskier than he ever wanted it to in the presence of Sammy. He coughed apologetically, feeling his face warm out of more than one reason now, and cast his eyes to the floor. "Um, Cas, can we...let's go upstairs for a moment," he blurted out, grabbing the angel by the hand and practically ran out of the room. Dean couldn't even make it five paces past the door before he spoke.

He brushed his fingers through his hair, letting go of the hand he held tight ignoring how comforting it was to him. "You...you," he sighed. "You told me to stop thinking of the Cas I knew, the one that I made up in my mind," he muttered lowly.

Castiel nodded, wondering what caused such a shift so suddenly. Wondering if it was the same reason that made him feel so alive right now. "I did."

"You sort of told me the same things before," he mumbled some more. He walked toward Castiel and reached for his hand again. With only an inch or so between them, he took Cas' hand with both of his and molded the hand so his two fingers were unfolded. He tugged them without resistance and pressed them to his forehead, seeing the angel's eyes widen at the implications. "I want you to see it; it explains...somewhat, what... what happened to us," he whispered.

Castiel nodded again almost without helping himself and saw the images flash through his mind that had flashed through Dean's just recently. He took a step back and breathed for a few moments, furiously examining every detail within that moment in time. "What had you done to...abuse me as you said?" he asked cautiously, unsure if he really wanted to know now.

"I...I treated you unfairly," Dean choked out like it were razors scraping against his throat instead of words. "You were the first, um, guy I ever," he sighed. "I freaked out. A lot. But you just rode it out and waited for me to accept love, to accept you," he said softly, glancing back up into his eyes at the end.

"How long will it take you to accept me again?" the Angel murmured, pressing their foreheads together so he could see his breath tickle Dean. The human shivered and made a whimpering noise that belonged more to a starving, freshly-beaten dog.

"I accept you, God, Castiel! I accept you," Dean's left hand wavered in place as though it couldn't make up its mind. Castiel could feel it ghosting on his cheek-skin and crossed his eyes just to stare at it encouragingly.

He held his breath even.

But the hand fell onto his shoulder instead and the air hissed out almost on its own accord. Castiel turned his eyes back on Dean's face with a little more displeased anger in them, waiting for Dean to explain himself. "I accept you, I really do Cas. But I can't take you," he delighted in the naughty blush of lust that bloomed across Dean's mind and face. "Not when you don't have...the truth so you can make a...reasonable decision."

Castiel pulled away with a sigh, already knowing that he missed simply just the contact with Dean like it was a Truth of God. But Dean was shaking like a leaf already and he was afraid that he'd melt. Though that had a certain appeal since it would be all because of him that Dean fell apart. That had to mean there was something Dean felt for him in return.

"You want me to wait until I've regained the entirety of my memories," he stated like it was nothing. Dean felt his mouth dry up at the possible notions that meant.

"Yeah," he cursed himself for the way his voice cracked.

"Why can't you just show them all to me like you did before?" For a second, it almost was a feasible option. Oh, won't Sammy be proud he was weighing his options carefully.

Then again, Sammy definitely wasn't anywhere near proud about the moment that caused all of this.

"No," Dean said, shaking his head and dropping his hand finally. He hated how it just had to feel so comfortable, _so right_. God, the world just hated him. "Because you'd view my memories with all the emotion attached to them. It would be-"

"-Biased. Yes, I understand," Castiel nodded, his voice taking on a slightly uncharacteristically dark tone. "Because you have obviously been so unbiased previously," He turned and just left the room, left Dean.

Dean knew that that was an extremely low blow, for an angel no less, and it knocked the wind out of him like it was a real physical blow. But the worst part of it was the look in his eyes just before he left.

It was almost exactly the same look he was fearing that he would get before being rejected for the final time. It reminded him too much of when he walked out on Castiel.


	7. Never Enough

_I'm pretty sure I promised no more angst but...Dean really likes to beat himself up and stick his foot in his mouth, doesn't he? Well, at least the plot does thicken, like I also promised...(only a few more chapters left, really)  
_

_Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain small spoilers, AU and probably a really bad plot-twist-ending with a small "crossover". Some crude language. Mentions of Dean/Castiel with brief details.  
_

Dean pulled out the bar seat a little shakily. He actually surprised himself by not tipping the chair onto the ground or falling flat on his ass before sitting into a cushion numerous others have sat in before him. A cushion numerous others would sit in after him.

He sighed, rubbed his face wearily, and tapped the wooden bar table for a drink. He used to be a happy drunk, a little more sloppy version of his usual self with a sly, incorrigible grin present at all times. Now it seemed things have changed. He wouldn't have known either way. Castiel made him stop drinking excessively while they were...whatever they were.

It didn't matter right now. He was in too much pain and loathing to bother burning himself with the light of happy memories. The ones Castiel didn't have any more. The ones Castiel blames him for hoarding and not sharing.

He felt the acid slid down his throat and could easily trace its path from start to finish into his stomach and almost hear it eat away at his vital organs. He could die a slow, painful death this way. It wouldn't be anything less than what he deserved.

Dean rubbed his face again, absent-mindedly noting someone filling in the seat next to him with a lot more ease. It was only 10:15 PM and he had bar-hopped his way down to this one, his fourth. He was a little surprised he wasn't being denied service yet. Surprised, but not ungrateful.

"Bar'enderr," he slurred, waving one arm. "Hit me 'gain," his arm started to misbehave. "Dammit," he muttered before the glass was set down before him with a heavy thump. His partner next to him stole it and downed it with ease before he could even reach out for it.

"What the fu-" he hiccuped and swayed as he turned in his seat to face the bastard who stole his drink. "Do you thin' yer doin'?"

"Dean," said the blurry Sasquatch in a voice that just screamed 'I'm-a-buzz-kill'. Dean laughed at his own private joke.

"Sammy-boy, what're you doing here?" he asked again, politer and a little less slurred with a half-grin.

"I came to find you and sober your ass up," Sam turned to the bartender. "Coffee, black, please,"

"How'd you find me?" Dean squeezed the handle of his cup of coffee, inhaling the steam through his nose. He sipped at it gingerly, punishing his tongue with heat and ugly taste like he just punished his liver with poison.

"You must be drunk if you ask me that," Sam laughed. "Dude, you're like the only person who drives an Impala in the entire world,"

"Don't mock my baby," Dean mumbled. "How's Cas; where is he?"

Sam gave him a weird look, then frowned and shook his head. "He went somewhere to cool off, I guess. Bobby said he'll handle him when the time comes. If he even comes back," He paused. "You really pissed him off, Dean." This was said softly and not for the sake of his blooming headache, he guessed.

"Yeah," he whispered, staring off in the distance. "I never thought that trying to do the right thing would make me more of a douche-bag. I am doing the right thing, aren't I?" Dean glanced back at Sam with a pleading look radiating so intensely.

"What... what are you doing?" Sam asked with some hesitancy. He wasn't sure he wanted to know any more details of his brother's relationship. He still couldn't get rid of the image of his brother lying naked beneath the angel on their dining table. God, there it was again-

But Dean needed his help, idiot that he was to get himself here. Maybe he'd finally listen for once.

"Castiel-" Dean bit his lip and looked into his drained cup. This wasn't the sort of thing he was accustomed to discussing with his little brother. He sighed and decided to let it all out in one breath. "Castiel wants to fuck me and he's pissed that I won't let him until he gains his memories back," The tips of his ears started to burn tellingly.

"Oh, um," Sam stammered, running a hand through his hair. "Well, in that case, you're doing the right thing. God, that sounds so weird," he tapped for his own drink and shovelled it down as fast as he could.

"Now you know why I'm here," Dean chuckled a bit morosely. His breath left through his nose heavily as he stared into his empty coffee cup. His tongue was nagging at him to apologize. It sounded a bit like Castiel.

He was drunk, he was drunk, he was _so hungover_ that his eyes were welling up because of some reaction to his drunkenness and not the domesticated-Cas reference in his head.

"Dean..." his brother trailed, arm reaching out to the back of his cushion just as the dam overflowed. The weird, semi-hug that was so-totally-awkward was Sam's misreading him.

He simply decided to play along. That's why he sobbed into Sam's shoulder quietly. That's why he said "God, Sam, I just miss him so much," in a raw, broken way. The way someone would speak if they couldn't have the one person, or angel, they loved most.

That's why Sam said "I know, Dean, I know," back. It was all just an act to play, one little scene.

That's why it didn't really hurt so fucking much feeling like he missed his chance for a hunter's happily ever after. Feeling like he missed his chance to have his Cas.

"You know," Sam said, breaking the silence as they walked to the Impala. Or as he all but carried Dean to the Impala depending on whose point of view. "I'm glad that you actually opened up without me having to threaten you with something first-like we usually do,"

Because none of this real, simply a rehearsed stage that he would also completely forget about it in the morning, Dean said "Yeah, me too."

He woke up that morning, afternoon really, back groaning in time with his mouth. His whole body complained about last night. "And I didn't even have sex with anyone," he grumbled as he sat up, giving himself another generous minute to stretch and fully awaken. Hangovers really sucked.

"Indeed you did not," Castiel answered his thought he didn't even realize that he spoke out loud. Dean jumped.

"Fuck!" He muttered, rubbing his eyes. He was not ready for a snarky, upset Cas this early in the morning. "Where's Sam?" he asked, just so the angel couldn't continue with some awkward-because-they-both-so-wanted-it comment.

The angel cocked his head, tilting in the direction of the floor. "Samuel is downstairs. It is nearly noon. I was sent to see if you were awake and watch over if you if you were not. He and Bobby decided to pick up with the mission if you did not wake soon,"

Dean snorted. "Right. I'm sure that's their only reason," But even as he said it, his mouth dried and his heart began to hammer thinking about all the _things_ the two of them could do with no one around. He had to close his eyes hard and think even harder to banish those images away. And they still left behind a warm feeling in his stomach and an echo in his heart.

"Enough," he told himself. Maybe he hadn't come to terms fully with the evils, one in specific, that he had done to Cas and himself, but he was tired of battling the stupid emotions. He was a Hunter, he didn't have time for any of this shit. He needed to be on his A-game at all times.

"If only Cas wasn't here, I could..." he muttered to himself again, unsure of what exactly he meant to end it with. He looked up and turned around, jumping again when he found himself face-first with a whole-lot of sad angel.

"Dean, I do not wish to cause you more turmoil but," he gestured flatly with his hands and Dean softened again. The power this angel had over him was infinite. "There is so much I...don't understand. It is causing me...great pains,"

"Believe me, I know," was all he could squeeze out. "We better join the party heading out," he said over his shoulder after a cough. It didn't hurt as much to speak to him if he wasn't facing him. Although, it took a little more repetition before he could actually convince himself of that.

"Dude, you're wearing the clothes you had on last night," Sam greeted as soon as they arrived. He wrinkled his nose. "Oh, God, and you stink!"

Dean and Castiel gave him a mild once over. "Don't take the Lord's name in vain," they said at the same time, Dean mocking and Castiel serious as ever. Castiel cocked his head at Dean, frowning thoughtfully as Dean rolled his eyes at the absurdity. He hoped he wasn't showing how nervous Cas' stare was making him.

"Great, we've got our two Jesus freaks back again," Bobby muttered, shutting the trunk and moving to the driver's side of his car.

"Anyway, if you just gave me some time, I could've showered and changed before we left," Sam bit back the comment he was going to make at the glare that Dean sent him.

"Oh, and by the way," Dean continued, pulling his brother in closer. "What the fuck were you trying to do?"

Sam looked down. "Dean, after what you said last night-"

"Fuck," Dean grumbled, breaking away and rubbing his face. He kicked the ground up a little. "You aren't supposed to remember that,"

"You have to do something, Dean," Sam pointed out, his voice giving him no terms of refusal. "This situation is tearing you apart. You're back to where you were at the beginning. Maybe if you'd just-"

"No, I can't do that to him," he said, his voice just as low. "Anything but that. I thought we discussed that last night,"

"We did," Sam conceded awkwardly. "But, sometimes, doing the right thing hurts too much," He glanced at Bobby, then Castiel and at his feet before looking at his brother in the eyes. "It hurts everyone too much,"

"Don't I fucking know, that's why I need this," he laughed bitterly. "I need something to take my mind off him for at least a few minutes whenever I can. And if that means staring at a fucking wall trying to find some clue to whatever the hell we've found ourselves in, so be it. I really don't think you're in a position to judge coping methods, Sammy!"

Sam frowned and his eyes darkened. "Dammit, Dean. I fought with you at the end of the world. I was willing to sacrifice myself to fucking Lucifer and jump into a cage for all eternity and I still haven't proven myself to you for a mistake that I regret with all of my heart. And _I_ really don't think you are in a position to judge _yourself_," he sneered.

"God, Sam, that's not-I didn't mean, fuck it!" he cursed at his retreating brother's back, watching him angrily slam the door to Bobby's car. "I'm just one big screw-up after the next forever and always, aren't I?" he muttered to the ground.

He heard their car rev to life and squeal as the tires gripped on the loose dirt to spin off in the direction of the house they were investigating and sighed. He took a look at the ruffled angel beside him glumly and decided that yes, he probably was.

* * *

When he said that he was going to "stare at a fucking wall" as part of his coping methods, he didn't really think he was going to _stare at a fucking wall_ the entire time. Much less, talk to it like he was some sort of crazy person. But there was something that called him back into the room from before. His fingers returned to probing the crack in the wall, caressing it delicately as he mulled over his thoughts again. He wasn't in as deep of a lull as before, trying to be alert on some level so that a repeat of yesterday didn't happen.

"What did you do to keep the people you love?" he asked the wall. Something dripped and creaked in the silence following him. He rested his forehead against its old frame.

"What would you do if those people came back desperate to fix you-could you let them, even if you knew it would and could easily cause more destruction? More destruction than you could take at first, but at the same time, know that maybe everything would get fixed? New plumbing, new furniture, decorations, knickknacks and all that shit.

"But it wouldn't matter because you would be happy and he would be happy and everybody would be happy again and this time you wouldn't mess it up for the world; you'd take care of yourself and of him, put him first and treat him perfectly forever. But then, but then, what if all that happens, and he-he suddenly stops wanting you and you realize he never really wanted you because there is so much better out there than you and nothing you do can make him content any more? What if he leaves, what if you let him leave to go back to where he belongs even though you know it's not going to be with you? Could-could you take that chance?"

He waited, feeling silly as he did so, and listened with a shiver at how much more quiet it seemed now that his voice stopped rambling into the empty, dusty air. Dean sighed and closed his eyes. The house wasn't going to share any more with him, and he couldn't find the answer for himself inside himself yet. He wondered if he would any time soon.

"This place is freaking depressing," he muttered to himself, letting out an ironic, half-hearted chuckle. He removed his contact from the wall and left the room reluctantly still.

He found Bobby gingerly combing over the dusty and cobwebbed book shelves for answers while Sam and Castiel stared uncomprehendingly at the image of stained wings. Dean plopped himself into an empty chair and sighed.

The only sounds in the entire house were Dean's sneeze at the dust particles flying into his nose from the motion of his sitting down and the house's own endless creaks and groans from their presence.

Bobby slammed a book shut a moment later. Sam glanced over at him but Dean watched the sad and confused look frost over the angel's face. He flinched every time Cas shut his eyes and winced faintly himself, as if receiving a ghost punch to the ribs.

"Well, I've got a stinking pile of absolutely nothing," Bobby said with finality. "If it weren't for those damn wing-marks and traces of sulphur, this house would be completely clean...or at least, normal," he added with a dark look around the messy home. "Any ideas?"

"Some up and coming hotshot takes on an angel to prove his dominance-" Dean started, tossing out the only thing that sounded somewhat plausible.

"But that would suggest a time frame in which the passing of this sister of mine clearly overshoots," Castiel said over him, shaking his head and feeling sick to his stomach. "This death happened decades ago, before our time and yet not,"

Dean sucked in a breath at his inclusive syntax and stood up slowly. Less dust that way. "But that can't be. She's still alive,"

"When she should not be," Castiel pointed out, biting his lip and narrowing his eyes.

"But a demon could not have killed her, we saw her die! Right, Sammy?" he cast a look at his brother.

Sam just crossed his arms and glared at him. "Sorry, but I have no clue what you're talking about,"

"God," Dean rolled his eyes. "I forgot you were still pissy at me," he mumbled. "Anna, Sam. We watched Raphael kill her,"

"I don't even want to know how you two do it," Bobby muttered to no one. "So what does this mean?"

Dean snapped back to Castiel and shook his head slowly. He swallowed and stepped closer to him. The world around them shrunk to fit only the two of them. "No...No, Cas, you can't-" his voice broke on him and he fell back on his eyes to implore him.

"Dean, there was once a time when I would take you on your word for anything," Castiel looked down, frowning at the vague feelings of memories stirring inside him. The Breaths seemed to be losing their hold. He closed his eyes briefly and looked back into those dark green eyes that so quickly captivated him. "I need to do all in my power to return to that time."

"Cas," Dean tightened his hold on the angel's forearm, straining to pull him closer. "Please, listen to me. Something's not right about all of this and I don't-" he stopped and sighed, crumpling in the face of futility.

"I can't let you go," he whispered. "Not again,"

"But you must," was the firm answer and the arm he held tight vanished out of his grasp.

He fell to his knees, his head bowing with the momentum and struggled not to sob. He was the house and he hated how he felt like this was his last chance for repairs.

The house groaned with him in sympathy. But that wasn't enough.

Not nearly enough.


	8. Never Forget

_A full Cas!POV just for kicks.  
_

_Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits. Warnings: may contain small spoilers, AU and probably a really bad plot-twist-ending with a small "crossover". Some crude language. Mentions of Dean/Castiel with brief details.  
_

"Anna!" Castiel yelled out, drawn to the field where he journeyed for peace. It was a siren's call to him. His own little piece of Heaven on earth. How could he ever forget such a place?

It was green. As jade-of-the-sea green as he remembered, with flowers sprouting and beginning to grow. Light violets and budding roses, yellow tulips and dancing dandelions. Weeds as ugly as sin curled protectively around their perfect brethren. A reminder that there is good in the face of evil just as evil can hide amongst the face of good.

A soft wind blew, tugging on his coat-tails of his tan trench coat and ruffling his hair. Closing his eyes, it was so easy to imagine it was Dean's playful, teasing fingers from long before.

_"You look so sexy like this," he actually giggled, too airy to be a chuckle and heavier than a snort, digging his fingers into Castiel's scalp with drunken glee. He leaned down to kiss his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. Dean sighed. "You have that sexy bed-head hair,"_

_"So do you," he insisted, slurring his words slightly. He, too, was drunk from imbibing too much alcohol in their celebration. Of what, he was no longer aware._

_"Nah, not like you," he replied, shaking his head. "You look _sin-ful-ly_ debauched 'cuz yer so sweet and innocent and have gorgeous puppy eyes and a pout that could melt good ol' Lucy's black heart," He sucked with his teeth on Castiel's bottom lip like he was attempting to drink the soft pink flesh. He moaned and submitted to Dean's alpha ways, fingers pressing into his ass already. "It looks better on you; you have the innocence to pull it off, my Angel,"_

_"Yours," Cas agreed, gasping as he rocked back onto the fingers deep inside him._

_"Mine," he growled. "Always mine,"_

He shivered in the shadows of that memory. Twinging as the Breaths roamed restless. Not uncomfortably, just anxious and waiting. Danger was in the air, a thrilling sinister sense of dread and confusion. He was not sure he wanted to find the resolution any more.

"Anna, find me," he muttered darkly, daring her to appear before he lost his nerve and summoned Dean to stand beside him.

"I'm impressed," she whispered smugly, striding towards him through a sudden cloud of mist. "It didn't take too long for you and your delicious meat-bag to figure out. Too bad that was all a part of my plan,"

"What is your plan?" he asked, fighting against the hesitation that tried to make him pause and flee.

With a speed and agility he didn't know she was-or whatever _she_ was-capable of, her face leaned down into his intimidatingly. Her wide grin split her face as her eyes flickered black. Demon black. Castiel took a step back but claws dug into his flesh, drawing blood and turning him to stone.

She pressed her nose against his and he shuddered at the waves of disgust that shook his Breaths alive. "I think it's time we had our little chat, don't you think, _Cassie_?"

The only thing that remained to bear their imprint was the drops of blood that splattered on one pair of shoe-printed, flattened grass and painted the ground.

* * *

It was damp wherever she took him. He could hear the water dripping in the background incessantly like chimes in a hurricane.

It was warm. Just enough to make his vessel sweat on the edge of his comfort zone.

It was dark because of the blindfold he was wearing. It smelled like a chemically-dirtied dishcloth and stung if he tried to open his eyes.

His mind was still reeling from the jump she had taken him on far too much for him to process much more than this. Whatever was parading around as Anna was certainly more powerful than him and ancient too. Some type of god or goddess from years past. It was the only explanation for the cunning strength and the hot tingle from the residue of oak that flavoured its power.

"Don't think too hard, Cassie," she mocked from behind him, if all his senses were true. "You'll fry that pretty brain of yours and I'm on orders to keep you alive,"

"Who...who's orders?" he gasped. His head felt heavy and his body felt weak. A drug of some sort must be coursing through his system.

He noticed a peculiar lack of feeling in his stomach. The Breaths were gone. Ripped out of him if the stickiness and mild pain was anything to go by. The area itched as it was on the mend. Mercy, or forgetfulness perhaps?

She chuckled. "You wouldn't know Him, you're too young," He felt her stretch her body and wrap around him so that they were facing each other. She gently lifted his blindfold off and he blinked at her fuzzy visage. "But, since I have such a _soft_ spot for you, I think I'll tell you anyways. I'm not Anna, I am something much greater,"

Her eyes shifted black and then yellow and then red. "Something much older," Her skin shimmered gold and her teeth sharpened into rows of shark teeth. "Something much more dangerous than you'll ever know and far more sinister than those Leviathons you wanted in a different future.

"I am Goddess and my mate is God!" she screeched, wings spurting out of her back, wet and dripping black liquid the smell of petroleum that sizzled as it met the ground. "Our name shall be restored and our hunger sated with only the blood and destruction and enslavement of your precious humans, especially the one called Dean. He will be the First, to resurrect my Lord just as he began the breaking of seals for your Lucifer,"

She was a blur nipping at his nose with her sharkish jaw, returning to her position as if nothing had happened. The faint tingling said otherwise. She hummed smugly. "He will be Ours, Cassie. Bonded to Us as Our favourite plaything. You know how _tasty_ he is; We just might keep him...forever,"

"You will not have him!" he spat at her, a red haze of anger tinting his vision.

Pain flooded over the barrier of the drug's limit, breaking its hold permanently and viciously, and his wings materialized in his distress. He strained against his chair, keening fruitlessly as any sort of haze disappeared. She cooed delighted, wrapping herself around Castiel once more to toy with his wings.

"Perfect," she remarked with childish joy, manually flapping his wings in the same time as one would clap their hands together. "Everything's going as planned!" She cackled as she squeezed tighter around his body, making him choke.

"Now this means I get to have some fun,_ finally,_" she spun around to face him and etched a bloody trail underneath Castiel's chin from his neck up with the pointed nail of her first finger. He scowled at her, turning away from her touch.

"You have no idea how _long_ I've waited to play with you," she purred. "At least I found out something interesting while I invaded your Heaven in compensation for my patience,"

She leaned in to his exposed ear and chewed on it, biting down when Castiel tried to pull away and tearing at his cartilage. His right ear flapped against the side of his neck, missing its connective tissue. "Your wings are weak. Just as weak as your servants' bodies," she whispered delicately.

Everything froze.

Her rumbling laughter sounding like the chortling of dragons, more demonic and malicious than anything he had ever heard right inside his ear drum. He swallowed. "Yes," she purred. "That's _right_. My mission was simply to get you to trust me as the only one willing to help you in your time of need. All I had to do was wait until the time was right and so that I could come to you as Anna without ringing any alarms and you would lead me straight to the prophesied one. And it was so easy with all you glorified winged-meat-suits busy focusing on the end of the 'Apocalypse' and grieving over your dead. I just slipped right in and slaughtered all your brothers and sisters.

"But you, _you_ my little baby cousin, went a step further. You practically handed yourself to me on a silver platter. So trusting, you opened yourself up to me like you did when you were that human's whore and gave me all of your knowledge. I have all of your memories, _I'm_ the one who took them. I'm the one who Punished you, Castiel, when you gave me the key to it all. So, really, I ought to thank you. You made my job so much easier."

She half-hummed, half-laughed in thought, trailing her nails down the right side of his cheek. A thin line of red followed until she stopped to tap against his jaw, knocking loose some of his teeth by the consistent pressure. "What to do, what to do...?" she sighed and pinched his cheek more viciously than any well-meaning grandmother. He glared at her helplessly.

"Oh, I _know_," her eyes flashed darkly and that wide grin split apart her face with all the cruelty and style of lightning. "How about I give them back, _one. By. One_?" She tapped her fingers against his sore face to accentuate even further. Castiel winced in revulsion.

"No..." he whispered, looking away. If the Breaths were still with him, he could imagine the way they would pull and tug at his insides in the very sense of wrongness emanating from her.

"Don't worry," she hissed, pleased with herself immensely. "I'll make sure it's _completely_ painful," Then she laughed fully and wholly again, a sound that put maniacs to shame as it echoed inside Castiel's frame and violated him with her sadism. The light dimmed around him and did not return for a very long time.

She was behind him again, wrapped frame applying pressure to his stomach and chest that made it uncomfortable to breath, much less make it capable of even the smallest squirm. "Let's start from the beginning, shall we?"

She plucked out a feather with deceptive ease and simplicity. He screamed and spasmed with fiery agony scores more painful than anything he had experienced. He supposed she had withheld his Punishment and was now giving it back to him on top of everything else. But thoughts like that did not stay long. He was drowning in pain, becoming as savage and mindless as a tortured animal. The only thing he was aware of was hurt and the only thing he cared about was getting rid of that hurt.

Then she brushed his decaying black feather against his forehead and he felt like dying.

Memories flew into his mind too fast to comprehend. All except for bright eyes staring at him with fear, confusion, hatred, disgust, sympathy, hurt, exhaustion, pain, hope, want, grief. Images of a human so perfect, so damaged, so very marked by him and smiles, laughs, grunts, scowls, sneers, smirks, groans, grins, whispers. And he knew-he_ remembered_ what he had lost ever so slowly.

And then it stopped.

He came to himself, shivering uncontrollably as he wept with tremendous effort. His face was wet and he was sure it was not all saline tears. The strain of even a single plucked feather echoed in the beat of his heart much too fast to be normal. "Please," he begged, forgoing pride or the simple fact that she was his enemy. "Not again,"

"Oh," she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and he winced at the sharp, clear sound. A migraine bloomed in his forehead. "But Cas, we've only _just_ begun."

He whimpered pitifully, in too much pain to make much noise any more as she continued to pluck out his feathers one by one. Her rotten touch blackened them to ash in her hands after she pressed them against the skin of his brow and fried his nerves with over-stimulation. His brittle bones broke and marrow gushed hot and thick. It dripped down his back, burning his flesh through his clothes, and echoed in dissonance of the highest kind as each drop broke upon the ground like the beat of the drum of war. Waves upon waves of memories brutally attacked him, pillaging his mind like ancient warriors plundered conquered lands and people alike.

He submitted to their dominance and fell deep within the recesses of his fading Grace.

_"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?"_

_"Good things do happen, Dean,"  
_

_"Not in my experience," Dean said with complete certainty. But the worst part was the gleam of reliving Hell everyday so clear and visible in his eyes as he said that._

_He tilted his head to the side with sadness as he spoke. "What's the matter?" He paused just for a moment, scrying the top of his thoughts, and continued with a softer, knowing tone. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."_

_Dean lowered his head, kept his eyes out of sight. "Why'd you do it?"_

_"Because God Commanded it," he had said without hesitation..._

_"Cas, it's Dean."  
_

_"Do you need me? Where are you?"  
_

_"Yeah. Route 31, it's the basement level of the St. James Medical Centre-" He stops as Castiel appears.  
_

_"I'm there now," the Angel says into the device, moving the receiver ever closer to his mouth, to fill the silence of their eyes meeting and speaking. It has only gotten worse-or better depending on your point of view-the longer he works with these humans-with Dean. He is not sure if Dean understands anything, but Castiel does not hold back in these mental conversations. 'I'm here now, Dean. I won't ever leave your side unless you command it of me...don't command it of me'.  
_

_"Yeah, I get that," he says, looking suitably unimpressed. Castiel can not read anything off him.  
_

_"I'm going to hang up now," he says next, waiting another second with a crease on his forehead, straining to get his message across. 'Dean'.  
_

_"...Right," his eyes flicker as he speaks, but Castiel does not dare to hope. Then, a trademark grin of his spread across his face and he feels something tingle in his chest. These feelings he should not be feeling-could not be feeling if he was truly an angel. Yet, he does, he is, because of Dean. His charge that he is too invested in, they say. They can't see how Dean is like a flame, enticing and dangerous and beautiful and mysterious and so very warm. Fragile. Man was gifted with the discovery of fire. Fire was a good thing. So was Dean. He could not be faulted for wanting to discover all that lied within the depths of this gift to angels, within his Dean.  
_

_"So, you, uh, gonna hang up or what?" he teases with that mouth. So disrespectful, but so...charming as well. He could easily learn to love that mouth of his-  
_

_These thoughts scare him. "I am," he affirms with a jerky nod.  
_

_"Then why don't you do it? I'll still be here," his voice is so soft now. Dean has never spoken this way before. It is something to be cherished. He can feel it soothe away his worried mind already.  
_

_His brother coughs pointedly. Dean flips his phone shut with a jump, glancing back at him as if he had been caught doing something wrong. Their call ended. Dean was the one to end it, not him. He stares at his communication device with a pondering glance as the time flashes at how long they had spoken. Only 43 seconds. So much in so little amount of time. _

_"Uh, yeah. So, the, uh, hearts thing," he grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. Castiel looks back up at him and they meet eyes once again, but the power of their connection is dulled compared to the electricity of before. Dean gives him a small smile. "Go check it out, Cas,"_

_He tilts his head at him and eventually nods, moving towards Sam to figure out what mystery plagued the Winchesters now. So many emotions, so very confusing. But pleasing. Yes, definitely that. Even if he did not understand, he would not give these moments up for the world...  
_

_Dean suddenly reached across the divide between them in his beloved car, his hands tightly pressing into the sides of his face as he smashed his lips against his. It was hot and fevered as if they were packing a whole life-time of kisses into one moment and it hurt with a delicious intent. He felt teeth nip at him, saving gentle caresses for another time, and Castiel gasped. He fully expected Dean to take advantage of his open mouth but he seemed startled and pulled back as if he was afraid of being caught by a priest-or, perhaps, his father._

_"I, uh...so where does this leave us?" he asked, refusing to look at him and instead finger his steering wheel._

_"Wherever you want it to, Dean,"_

_He could feel the shudder rack his body as he glanced at him through the corners of his eyes. "Don't do that to me. I can't-this is all so different to me. I don't know how to handle this,"  
_

_"And I do?" He must have snapped angrier than he intended because Dean slid to him with a more apologetic expression.  
_

_"Cas, that's not what I meant...I want you, and that scares me," he whispered his secret to the air between them.  
_

_"You are not alone, Dean. I will never allow it..."  
_

_His eyes flicker again and another decision is made. He still takes in a nervous breath for his nerves, no doubt. "Meet me in the back seat. Now, before I change my mind," Castiel, ever so innocent in the ways of humans first hand-especially that of their depravity-, knew exactly what Dean's less-than-honest intentions were.  
_

_He could not say he disapproved.  
_

_It was Castiel's turn to shiver once Dean sat beside him in the back seat of his treasured Impala. The air was tense with sexual desire, lust, but there they sat still as statues. "Are you sure that it is okay for me to-for us...?" Dean finally asked, his voice breaking into a rough grumble. He no doubt was remembering their most recent hunt involving the church and the minister's daughter.  
_

_"No," Castiel said, tilting his head to view him. He knows much about the debate on homosexuality in the Bible. But God could not be found to clear up the issue once and for all. Truly, it did not matter. Because this Castiel will do and with this human tonight. No force save God himself could stop it from happening, and even then, he was certain he would rebel and Fall for Dean. _

_"But I want to." And then there was no more discussing. His coat was effortlessly discarded and his tie was flung into the air._

_"I want this so badly, I want you so badly," Dean groaned, shrugging off his jacket. His voice dark with lust._

_"Yes," he hissed agreement, meeting his lips in a frenzy..._

_Zachariah would not approve. Namely because it was with Dean that he was committing such sins. But then again, perhaps he would twist it to his liking to force Dean's acceptance as Michael's vessel-something Castiel could no longer desire because Dean would no longer be his and that was unacceptable. Regardless, Zachariah seemed oblivious to this knowledge. And the flushing of their skins, meaningful glances and the improper smirk on Dean's face when the angel offered him anything he wanted.  
_

_Sometimes, though, Castiel wondered if his brother knew the truth and only phrased his words like such because he knew Dean would not take him again if he had his blessing.  
_

_Dean was oblivious to this worry of his and nothing he did soothed him to comfort. There was no discussing their relationship no matter how subtle Castiel attempted to be and Dean was always in charge, always taking, always receiving. But Castiel would give him anything and everything he wanted. And that contented him for now. Even though he knew he wanted more and felt disturbingly unsatisfied...  
_

_Dean's hand traced the outline of his body, stopping rub circles around his hip bones and suck on them. Castiel sucked in a breath, releasing in with a slight hissing quality to a moan. Dean's lips detached themselves with a quiet pop and stretched into a smirk before he lightly scraped his teeth over the sensitive bone and bit hard. Castiel gasped, his erection jumping up and straining achingly against the boxers Dean forced him to still wear. _

_"Dean..." he whispered. "Please."_

_"You're gonna have to do better than that, Castiel," he grunted, turning him onto his back and starting on the other side and working the left hipbone with more ferocity. Sucking harder, caressing harder, biting harder, touching harder. Castiel nearly screamed._

_"Please, Dean, please...just take me," _

_"As you wish," Dean grinned at him and tore off the only piece of clothing separating them. His hands ran down the back of his legs, licking the insides of the angel's thighs teasingly, and propped them up on his shoulders. He closed the distance, his cock pressing against Castiel's hole. "Ready?" _

_Castiel slide his legs and wrap themselves tightly around him just above his waist in response. He gave him a look, full of eyes blazing a bright unnatural blue in his glare. "Right, forget I asked," Dean chuckled, his cocky attitude forgotten as he pushed inside and moaned... _

_"Dean. What is this?" Castiel kept looking around at all the people that were trying to be subtle about staring and whispering at them and then back at him. Dean reached out to cover his hand, fuelling the volume of the whispers, and smiled. A genuine smile, the kind that Castiel saw so few of and notably only in his presence. He preened some and felt marginally less ill at ease.  
_

_"I-I've been thinking about what you've said," he said quietly after a cough. "And you were right. I need to appreciate you more, I need to show you that. I'm no good at all of these emotions running inside me, and I really hate doing those sappy _boyfriend_ things with all of the-"_

_He gave Dean a look because, "innocent" angel or not, he would not put up with this-as Dean would say-bullshit. He was tired of being pushed around and denied by Dean in all aspects of their "not" relationship. He had finally disobeyed Dean and started pressing with real authority about his needs, his wants, his desires that the human baulked at because he was uncomfortable in the situation of having a gay relationship and tried dealing with it the only way he was capable of. But Castiel would no longer sit for that. Nor the direction he words were going._

_"-Um, you know. But it's not an excuse," he added hastily."It's a warning that it will take time for me to be what you want, what I want to be for you."_

_"I know you've been trying," Castiel said, trying to show his appreciation through a gentler tone but he still took his hands away to prove that he could and would enforce his demands. "And you know just what you've done. There is no reason for you to do any of this when it was much more efficient to simply tell me at home..." he paused, taking a leap and using Dean's words-spoken so many times when Dean wanted to hide their liaison or scold him for his forwardness-to show exactly how serious he was. He would not leave Dean-could not-but he was also capable of denying him, too. "In private."_

_Dean surprised him, though. "Yes there is," he rasped. __"_You_ want it. _

_A wonderful flush of happiness burst through his skin and he glanced back at Dean with hope for his new-found maturity. "__You want to be here, out in public, out to the world. I know I've been doing it wrong; it's as hard for you as it is for me, and you haven't once complained. Cas," he shook his head. "God, Cas, I abused you and you were an angel about it all, no pun intended."_

_He did not entirely appreciate the comment, but Dean seemed to be expecting that and smiled brighter. Castiel forgave him. He loved that smile of his; he would do anything for that smile. "We are in a relationship. A real, working, girly-love-fest relationship. That means I have to stop being so god-damn selfish all the time. It's your turn. What do you want from me?"_

_Castiel thought careful over this. A million things went through his mind that he immediately dismissed. He did not want to waste this chance, but he knew he could not afford to push Dean to fast lest he chance breaking everything that they had. That left a very tantalizing option, though.  
_

_Now he understood the merits of smirking when one had a lecherous thought. He did not do so, of course. He simply said, "I want to Punish you, Dean,", carried him away to Bobby's home-conveniently on a sufficiently hard enough surface to leave lasting marks-and proceeded to give him a lesson he would never forget.  
_

_Oddly, it was a lesson that both Bobby and Sam seemed never to forget as well...  
_

_Dean did change. Slowly, at first, then more rapidly as time went on. He was more open to experimenting-in bed as well as with his affections out in public that was met with equal exhilaration and joy. They had, now, become so obvious that Sam's comments about how "sickeningly cute" they were were now tolerated with a shrug and a grin tossed to Castiel. And Dean seemed...happier, lighter, more carefree and less burdened when he was around Castiel. Which made Castiel want to Sing to Heaven with Happiness. And because Dean was so happy, Sam stopped being as broody and Bobby finally relaxed the tension in his shoulders a little.  
_

_"Missed you, Cas," Dean said almost playfully, launching himself from the bed to stand close by him with a crooked grin._

_Castiel smiled back. Softly, shyly. This form of Dean he was not used to._

_Not used to, but very much appreciative of. He wondered what exactly had gone on while he was away.  
_

_"I was busy with other duties,"_

_"Too busy for me?" There is a marked difference with these words. His act of playfulness is breaking. So he rushes to assure him because though Dean may be strong and confident in many areas, he has been hurt and broken. He sees this, he has always seen this, and it is something that Castiel loves about Dean. Vulnerability, resilience; human paradoxes.  
_

_"Never too busy for you, Dean." He initiates their contact this time; Dean lets him, it is part of his change. Castiel presses his lips in a touch against Dean's, drawing him close while his charge shakes with his head bowed. He frowns. He does not enjoy seeing him in this posture but he is unsure of what would help. "Dean," he breathed, his fingers slipping through his hair and running over his forehead. He tries to send him his calm, speak to him of comfort.  
_

_Dean sighed once and looked up at him with wet eyes. Castiel feels like melting and breaking someone or something at the same time. "Gabriel-Gabriel was a dick, no offence, him being your brother and all, but he was...decent. He made up for it in his way, the idiot," He can feel a smile curve his lips. Dean's words often said more than he would admit.  
_

_"Well-he didn't deserve to die. Not like that. I mean, we weren't there when he died but we could-I could still see the light," he said choking up and Castiel echoed his sadness. He knew he lost a brother even from his distance. He and Gabriel were much like Dean and Sam and Dean knew that parallel existed. It was probably why Gabriel's death was affecting him so.  
_

_"Cas," he was begging now with no idea of what. His confusion and desperation was evident. "Cas, I can't-I can't see you die. I can't be the cause of it. I couldn't live with myself knowing you died for me, because of me. So, you-you need to go away. You have to leave us, me, the humans to our own devices. Go back to Heaven, go back to where you belong, please. I don't want you here-"  
_

_Castiel cut him off with a much more furious kiss. 'I told him not to command me to leave...' he thought to himself, fuelling his passion. Dean whimpered under his dominion, showing how clearly he lied as he kissed back. "Dean," he murmured into his forehead, pressing kisses there as Dean held onto fistfuls of his trenchcoat. _

_"I belong with you and-" he gave him a pointed look with an eyebrow raised. "What makes you think I could bear to see you die when I could have prevented it?" his voice dipped into lower ranges and Dean shivered this time not out of emotional turmoil.  
_

_"Fuck me," he changed his plea, alternatively sucking marks onto Castiel's neck. "I need you. I waited for you after all this. Now come fuck me,"  
_

_"With pleasure," he purred, transporting them onto the bed in an instant.  
_

_"That's cheating," Dean teased. Castiel just vanished their clothes in response...  
_

_"Cas, you know- you know that I..." Dean fumbled with the words he was trying to say, lying naked next to Castiel. He cocked his head and watched his entire body darken with embarrassment and even a little lust as his gaze went not unnoticed. But Castiel understood and put him out of his misery.  
_

_"Yes, Dean, I do know. I feel the same way," he grinned at him hungrily, preparing to echo Dean's words from before. "Now come fuck me,"_

_Dean did the same with him, his cocky grin back in place. "With pleasure," he said, digging his fingers down the length of his back. Castiel moaned...  
_

_Dean had left after copulation precisely fifteen minutes ago and wound up at an empty park-illegally as it was after dark, but Castiel chose to ignore that-seemingly to brood in the dark by himself. Whatever nonsense that was going on in his mind appeared to be working.  
_

_"Why am I here?" he whispered, obviously to himself.  
_

_He sat beside him and could not stop the temptation to answer him with a sideways glance and contemplative but slightly accusing tone. "I don't know. I had thought that, since you didn't run from me the first few times, you wouldn't any other time. Am I to be a...five-night stand of yours, Dean?"_

_He could sense Dean's inner conflict arise once again, but at least most of his gloomy atmosphere had dissipated upon his arrival. That fact pleased him immensely. "Why do you love me, Cas, and I mean really love me?" he asked suddenly.  
_

_Castiel looked away to get his bearings and give him the most complete, honest answer he could. He viewed the scenery and thought of the beauty of this world his Father had created. He quickly flickered back to Dean and thought of the beauty Father had created in him. There was no comparison. Dean simply burned brighter. He hid the smile his quirking lips tried to expose but moving his gaze to his hands until he was sure he could remain straight-faced next time he looked upon him. He was sure Dean would not take well to his implications of what the smile could be about. Sometimes there was no arguing with his faulty thinking.  
_

_"I, uh, I don't know that either," he said, but really what he meant was 'I don't know how to explain it to you in a way you would understand'. Because how could he understand the difference, the freedom he had here on Earth when he had never experienced life in Heaven? How could he understand the transformation he underwent, the utter gift of emotions Dean had shared with him when he had always felt these things?  
_

_"You were my charge, I was the one appointed the task of raising you from perdition. Uriel scolded me from the start because he thought I gripped you too tightly." He paused here for emphasis, making sure Dean had time to comprehend every last bit of what he was saying with a soulful look. Then, and only then, he reached for his hands to place tender affection to each of his fingers. These remarkable things capable of so much, he loved them as much as he loved his mouth and his lips and his eyes; as much as any part of Dean.  
_

_"But when I saw you, even at your lowest, I knew that there was something that deserved to be saved inside you, Dean. And I will Fall to preserve that for you." Here he stood, feeling Dean's burning gaze on him at all times, and addressed the sky or maybe Heaven for this part as well to explain to his brothers.  
_

_"Man was not made to be perfect. Angels were; and even we have our faults. My fault seems to be feeling too much, loving you too much. Yours is giving up too much of yourself for others. If anything, you may be too perfect for this world, Dean, remember that,"_

_An inappropriate comment appeared in his mind and he shook his head inwardly. Dean was rubbing off on him too much, it seems. He turned back to share this moment of sly thinking. "I'll be waiting in the car for you to give some more of yourself to me."_

_That wonderful smile of his bloomed all over his face. "Did an Angel of the Lord just give me the longest pick-up line ever?"_

_"Did it work?" he asked with a grin. It seemed so since Dean took the steps to close the distance between him and kiss him sweetly._


End file.
